Final Fantasy VIII: The Novel (in progress)
by FFVIIInovel
Summary: A novelization of the illustrious Final Fantasy VIII game with subtle differences to keep the story exciting, new, and refreshing. Story will be updated frequently per 2,000 words.
1. Chapter I: Balamb Garden

**FINAL FANTASY VIII: THE NOVEL**

_I've never understood what people found so compelling in fantasy. Their 'dreams' and their 'desires:' you know… these 'things' that they pour the entirety of their beings into. The statistics don't lie. Most of them aren't going to become famous. They won't become legends. They're not even going to be remembered years after their death. Everything they've put forth is, essentially, for naught. Just do your best and the rest will work out the way it will work out. It was simple. People – they overcomplicate things._

I was finishing up research in Homeroom when the Head Instructor walked in, followed by a boy not in uniform, and a school-servant carrying in a new computer. Homeroom usually began leniently at eleven hundred hours, which meant I would still have a good twenty-five minutes to finish. Unfortunately though, today was not an ordinary day. Today, Balamb Garden was holding their annual tests for rank as SeeD, or the Special extemporaneous extension Defense 'task force.' In fact, there were several task forces within Balamb Garden testing today, but are cast within the shadow and reputation of SeeD. SeeD usually consisted of those entrance-exam graduates that held a special talent for combat, as well as having noteworthy academic achievements that included several prerequisite courses that focused on combat, strategy, chemistry, anatomy, and leadership/management.

I paused and looked up towards the front of the classroom, first at the clock and then at the door. The door glided open with a gentle_ 'psssshh'_ of the air-pressure release valve and a cool breeze rushed in, cold enough to make me feel minor disdain towards those arriving late to class. Sinking deep into my seat, I glanced over to my right, where _he _sat, whom in return of my glance, grimaced.

_He_ was Seifer Almasy. A thorough description of him would be to imagine the personality of a jackass… and then change nothing. He skipped class, belittled those around him, disrespected the Garden's staff, accepted any challenge that approached him, and for whatever reason, chose me to be his personal rival and training buddy. I feel like I've known him forever; although, realistically maybe just a few years, but when you're in acquaintance with someone like Seifer, a few years of history feels like a lifetime. I made an attempt to inconspicuously reach up and touch the still tender wound that stretched diagonally across my face – collateral from training with him. So much for, 'we'll just go easy this time.'

The Head Instructor finally rose from her desk. Those who had been asleep woke up and the minor banter from the chatty schoolgirls who sat in the far left corner died out. "Good morning, class," she stopped, looked down at her papers and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, "Let's start with today's schedule. As you all know, the field exam for SeeD candidates will begin later this afternoon. Those not participating, as well as those who failed last week's test, are to remain here in study hall. You know who you are." She paused again, glancing at the boy who was not in uniform. "We also have a new student, whom transferred from a nearby Garden. Please welcome him and answer any questions, should he have them," She turned to face the boy, "You can call me Ms. Trepe. Your home room teacher is out for the time being, so I'm temporarily filling in. Feel free to ask me questions as well." Ms. Trepe returned her attention to the class, adjusting her voice as needed to regain control, "Field exam participants, you have free time until the exam, I suggest you prepare and ensure you're in top condition. Meet in the hall at sixteen hundred hours. Your team assignments will be announced there. Questions?" There were none. I slid further down in my seat, resting my head onto the hard back of the chair and listening to the steady hum of the A/C vent overhead. "Oh, and Squall. I need to speak with you after class. Field exam participants, I will see you later." I picked up my head and logged off my computer, wondering what Ms. Trepe needed from me. I already knew what had to be done for this exam. I approached her.

Ms. Quistis Trepe, graduating top of her class two years ago and working as a full-time instructor, was indeed beautiful. I couldn't deny that. She stood slightly shorter than my height, about 5'9", and was not one to revel in her beauty, but rather her intellect. Her icy blue eyes rested behind glasses, adding to her stoic and sophisticated persona. Her soft face was kept framed between two long fringes of blond hair that fell to her uniform and tie – typical instructor vestures. Quistis was the youngest instructor at Balamb Garden, hailed as a child prodigy, and who's age and reputation divulges her to be far less strict and far more personal as a mentor. Her eyes fixated on me as I drew closer, her smile overly apparent.

"Squall, you haven't been to the Fire Cavern yet have you? You won't be able to take part in today's SeeD exam if you don't pass this prerequisite," Quistis knew I didn't have anything to say to her, and she knew where I was instead. Seifer, the only other specialist in my class of weaponry, had to complete combat training, so I was naturally his first choice. I couldn't refute. "Hm? Do you have a good excuse?" She paused, lowering her chin and focusing her gaze up and into mine, as if in an effort to raise my head to meet hers.

"….Not really." I wasn't about to explain myself, there was no point.

"Then let's get going. I'll be waiting at the front gate. I'll give you about twenty minutes to grab what you need and meet me down there. See you soon." Quistis turned towards the door and took a few steps before being absorbed in a small group of students who seemed to adore her every move. I bypassed her, and her posse, and made my way down the hallway towards the elevator.

Garden life was in full swing, and I wasn't sure if it was because of the exams taking place or because of the recent engagement of the Headmaster of Balamb Garden, Cid Kramer, and his own subsequent festivities. I crossed the bridge of the second floor and entered the elevator, descended to the first floor, then moseyed down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs stood a large, color-coordinated directory of the Garden, as well some confused looking girl trying to make sense of it. I headed out towards the front gate-

"Uhh… 'scuse me!" A timid voice brushed against my internal dialogue just enough to break my train of thought. I stopped and aboutfaced. It was the confused girl. "Um, excuse me, but does this directory make any sense to you?" Her voice felt like it was charged with enough female energy to hold off the Spartans. I looked at her, then the directory, then back at her and placed a hand on my hip. She should've been able to figure this out on her own. She leaned forward. "Oh, hey, hey, hey! I just transferred here. Do you think you could give me a quick tour of this Garden?" This girl, she looked up at me the way a puppy looks up at you when it desperately wants your attention. I gestured over to the directory.

"Sure thing." I replied, moving over to the directory and placing my finger up at the north most region of the panel. "You'll find the dormitory to the north. A majority of the students live in the dorms. There aren't many students who commute." My finger glided, "West of the North Block is the cafeteria. There's always a big rush for the hot dogs. You better get used to waiting in line." I paused, glancing down at her to make sure she was even paying attention. She was, nodding and smiling in acknowledgement. "Ok, so the other three places you should be familiar with are the infirmary, which is here. Also, the training center, which is here," I moved my finger to the large green colored panel on the far right hand side of the map, "The training center is the only facility that remains open during the night. It's used for _training_ and has _real_ monsters running around in there, so if you don't take it seriously, you may end up dead. Just be careful." I finished and she gulped in reply. "The last place worth mentioning is the quad, located in the West Block. There's an event being planned there – "

In an explosion of excitement and energy, she interjected, "I know! I know!" Her face lit up, her eyes widened, and she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, "It's the Garden Festival! It's going to be great! I'm planning to be on the committee! You want to help too!?" She leaned forward, as if my answer couldn't come quick enough for her.

"…Let's just continue," I replied, hoping to change the subject. "South of the East Block is the library. There's a lot of material you can look up here, but the terminals in the classroom are far more efficient. And you already know about the classrooms on the second floor I assume, right?" She nodded. "By the way, the headmaster's office is located on the third floor. You need permission to get in though. And… that's about it." I pulled my finger away from the board and turned to face her. She smiled blankly. I sighed and diverted my gaze to the side. _Is she even going to remember this?_

She placed her finger on the directory and slid it down diffidently. "So, another question," she began timidly, "Um… are you taking today's SeeD exam?" She looked up at me.

"Yeah."

"Oh ok! So maybe I'll see you again later! I've already finished my training at my previous Garden. I'm taking the SeeD exam today, too. Good luck to the both of us, huh! Thanks a lot!" She gave a quick wave, a flirty blink, and started away from me. I watched her as she left, curious to see if she knew where she was headed now. It was only a minute before she was again nonplussed. I sighed and headed towards the front gate.

Ms. Trepe, or Quistis, was already there, resting against the chain link fence that traced down the road to the vacant parking lot outside of Garden. The air was cool and the sun hid behind various patches of shapely clouds, scattering bits and pieces of shadows across the visible terrain. Quistis stood to her feet, gripping in one hand her weapon, a leather whip, and in her other hand, a clipboard. She stood independent of those around her, dressed for combat, and although she was not broad in the shoulders, her salmon zipped vest hugged tightly against her underarms. She wore dark brown armwarmers and brown gloves, a long salmon-colored skirt, black stockings, a brown belt, and black boots. The only exposed flesh was a small section of her shoulders and an even smaller section of her navel. She was certainly fit.

"I have a few things to explain before we head off. I'm fairly sure you equipped your GF, and you need to keep in mind that the stronger your GF is, the stronger you are. Everything you do affects your GF, consider yourself one in the same. Remember that." Quistis had clearly switched into instructor-mode. I nodded in compliance, knowing the basic history of GF's well enough to not have to pay attention a second time.

I recounted to myself just to make sure: GF stands for 'Guardian Force,' and they are entities capable of being summoned once 'attached' to a combatant. GF's and humans work in a symbiotic relationship and physically, GF's possess special characteristics and abilities that yield both superhuman strength and function to humans possessing them. Undiscovered GFs can be found in specific energy fields, such as areas of land that have cultivated a large amount of geometric energy, or they can reside in powerful monsters. However, GF's are nothing but a class of monsters that have the intellect and compatibility needed to be used as a weapon in battle by SeeD cadets. Balamb Garden, and more specifically SeeD, is the only school where their use has been approved because of the dangerous and serious side-effects of memory loss, caused by long-term junctioning. This is due to the belief that GF's use the emotional energy stored in the memories of their hosts as fighting power. It's a trade-off, but one necessary in SeeD's line of work.

Quistis flipped the first page of her clipboard, "Ok, so pay attention. You scored top of your class in over 3/5 exams, as well as qualifying for this evening's field exam. As top of your class, you are to receive the first opportunity of acquiring a GF through Balamb Garden. I will accompany you from the side, observing your decisions, strategies, and physicality – for a grade. We have located an area of high geometric energy and believe a powerful GF resides there. It is up to you to find it and convince it to attach to you, through whatever means you find necessary." She finished jotting down a few last notes onto her clipboard. "Let's get going; I hope you're ready. It's going to be rough, Squall."


	2. Chapter II: The Demon Within

** CHAPTER II: The Demon Within**

_(I seriously regret the fact I wore my jacket.)_

I peered behind me to see Quistis slowly entering the cavern. The 'Fire Cavern' was a small underground cave, relatively hidden behind a large area of dense foliage, connected to a series of volcanoes that surrounded the area where Balamb Garden was located.

Inside, the lava flowed freely, careening over molten rock and cascading across the jagged edges of our path. There was no need for a flashlight, the lava lit the cave the same way a fire might. Quistis and I continued down the path fully aware that we were exploiting an area of land that never before had been explored.

Minutes passed as I lead in silence, watching our shadows dance softly against the cavern walls. The deeper we continued, the more intense the temperature became, forming beads of sweat that rolled down my spine. The air was dry, and I paused in my pursuit, taking my gloved hand and wiping the sweat from my brow. Hell, if it wasn't for my gloves, I'm not even sure I'd be able to grip my weapon securely.

Quistis mistook my intermission as restiveness and secured the opportunity to break our silence. "You know," She began, bringing her pointer finger to her chin, "Most boys choke on these types of tests when I come with them." She locked eyes with me and ran her fingers across the split edges of her whip, "I guess my charm makes them nervous." She conceded, searching my face for admittance.

I turned to face her fully. She was all ears, like a student, body tilted forward and not daring to break our visual contact. I allowed her a few seconds to continue searching my unimpressionable visage. _(She can't be serious...)_

She leaned back, "I'm only kidding!" She mused, laughing, "I'm just trying to keep you relaxed. That's all." She gave a negligible nod, urging me to continue forward. We proceeded down the path until it came to a sudden end. "Well that's strange," She started, "That seems to be the entire place and we haven't seen any monsters, let alone a possible GF. Maybe our detectors at Garden were misaligned?"

I removed my gloves and tested the ground's temperature with the backside of my hand and sat down. I fingered the frame of my weapon and examined its craftsmanship. My weapon, a gunblade, laid spread across the heated gravel at about four feet in length. Despite its name, it does not actually fire ammunition, but rather when the trigger is pulled, the combustion of the gunpowder sends a shockwave down the blade, improving the overall cutting power and driving force of any given slash. It was one of those weapons that sounded better in the blacksmith's concept design than in given function. However, it was not without value, and proved not only to be the most difficult weapon to master but the most fierce. It's difficulty in handling is plausibly the reason why Seifer and I are the only ones who even amuse its existence as our primary weapon.

The rate of lava flow suddenly increased, slowly devouring both sides of the path we rested on. I arose suddenly, retreating my hands into the damp and fervid leather gloves I had cast aside. Here and there, all around us, among the dirt, and the gravel, and the rocks, the ground trembled, just as if we had awoken the earth from an irascible slumber. The cavern bellowed, like the pistons of a train, and then all at once, stopped.

Silence was everywhere; strange callousness emanated from the walls. I felt my heart, as it began to beat fast, coursing blood throughout my body like a torpid river. Quistis gulped, as if an inadvertent admonitory to turn back, then shuffled in place, crossing her arms and dipping her chin. I watched a bead of sweat slide down her face and drop to the igneous earth below, dissipating with an almost inaudible sizzle. Her head suddenly jerked upwards and I turned fully to face her, watching every expression that moved across her face as she began to fixate her sight behind me. Her frosty blue eyes widened and glazed over like two glaciers; her mouth agape in either astonishment or fear. I moved not but my hand, keeping my back to whatever she saw that stood behind me. I gripped the stock of my gunblade. Warm breath blew gratingly against the back of my neck as I turned halfway to meet the source, my eyes narrowed and focused. And then, I saw it.

Like a demon freshly risen from the ashes, the GF stood ready, towering over my figure. Eyes as deep as Hell itself, and a musculature intimidating enough to cause my body to instinctively freeze itself. Like milk, lava dripped from the demon's clawed fingertips, drawing my eyes down to his immense legs. The monster took a sudden step that lurched his giant body forward. This demon, he glared down at us like a wolf might eye injured prey, eyes furious and jaw hanging, a vehement curl of smoke pouring from his nostrils as he snarled, "**I AM IFRIT. WHO. ARE. YOU?!"**

My gunblade's hammer clicked as I turned to face him fully. I remained silent, letting my devilish and conspicuous smirk relay my intentions. I drew my blade, the metal sheered against its holster as I pointed the bladed tip directly into the demons line of sight, separating him and I by a measly four feet.

"**VERY WELL**," The demon could barely articulate his words, belching a roar that shook the ground beneath us and caused small shards of rock and dust to fall from above. All at once, the demon charged, taking a deep and forceful swipe in my direction. I bladed my side, easing the blow but not stopping it completely, forcing the flat of my gunblade into my shoulder. I crashed to the hot soil, dust coating my face and blurring my vision, the earth like a warm rag against my cheek. I composed myself, standing to my feet and disclosing the weapon between us again. Fast as a lion, Ifrit lunged forward now claws first and top heavy. I shambled to my right, dodging the attack and swinging my gunblade with all my might in his direction. The blade made contact and sunk deep within his skin. I pulled the trigger and a clap of light lit the cave as the blade forced the rest of its way through his flesh. The demon erupted in rage as he made three heavy swipes at me, the first missing, the second missing, and the third making contact. My white T-shirt slowly began turning red. I gripped my chest, eyeing the demon as it rose again to its feet, afraid to sight of it now.

Fronting a strange simper, with a wicked look in his eyes, with his teeth clinched and lips snarled, the demon lunged towards me. But he was too quick! _He was charging too quick!_ I pulled my arms in close and extended the blade in front of me, locking the stock against my hip and extending one palm directly towards him. A blast of blue light accumulated in my hand and shot straight at Ifrit's feet, freezing them in place against the ground. At once the demon began falling forward, his feet locked in place but torso still in motion, falling neck first into the tip of my blade. A trail of blood ran down my weapon and pooled itself on the ground beneath us. It was the first time I had ever used 'magic' in battle so I was surprised that it worked out so well; I wasn't a huge fan of the stuff. I was thankful that the use of elements, or 'magic,' was almost as instantaneous as just moving through a thought process.

I stood there for a few moments in both angst and victory. My arms were heavy with the demon's neck blanketing my blade. Blood poured down the ridge-line of my weapon, soaking my hands, dampening my sleeves, and running down onto my arms and elbows. I lowered the tip of my blade to the ground. Ifrit gradually slid off my gunblade in one slick motion. He lied their motionless, spurts of blood grushing from his mouth and throat. I dug my weapon into the soil below and knelt to one knee, my eyes still fierce. I probed his Hellfire eyes for an answer. He knew what I came to do, he could feel it – I knew that. The demon's yellow eyes faded to black.

There came a gurgle from deep within the his chest, then like a firework, the demon's dark brown body sublimated into a red scintillating dust, first floating astray and then rapidly diffusing into my being. The center of my torso began to warm and I raised a hand to meet it. He accepted my offer of being a GF over his death. I had won. Quistis approached, clipboard in hand and eyes shining, "You did it Squall!" She cheered and then stopped, seeking an equivalent emotional outburst from me.

I put a hand on my hip and sheathed my bloodied blade, turning to face her.

"Aren't you going to say anything…?" She asked, noticeably disappointed. She tiltied her head and crossed her arms.

"It's what we came here to do, it's not anything special." I moved past her, but not without first noticing the score that she had given me as the proctor. I tapped the 10/10 score as I passed, leading us from out of the cave into the cool air, where the afternoon shadows were falling and an August sunbeam sparkled down among the dense foliage and ripened leaves. It was done and I had gotten my first GF: Ifrit. I listened to the sound of nature on our way back to Balamb Garden, counting the hours to the SeeD exam and enjoying the silence of the walk back. Quistis hardly said a word, only once stopping to ask if my injury was ok and if I needed to go to the infirmary. I told her I'd be fine. I had no problem holding my wounds in disregard under my abysmal meditation:

_Those constant, pensive thoughts rupturing from my lion heart._


	3. Chapter III: SeeD

**CHAPTER III: SeeD**

Balamb Garden, founded nearly a decade ago by Headmaster Cid et al, covered ten acres of lush land, positioned between two nearby mountains, whose peaks remained mantled in white snow year round. Groups of neatly tended shrubs and flora spilled across the pathways, leading to where the front gate stood, and a series of stairs lead to the entrance way inside. The campus maintained a lofty ambience, and the sound of footsteps, with the sound of voices, resounded throughout the day, until night would fall, and the glow of dim lights were all that cloaked the pavement.

I leaned back in my chair, where the clock ticked incessantly on the wall, ensuring that every second I had to wait would not go unnoticed. I had showered and prepared my belongings for the SeeD exam, polishing my blade of Ifrit's blood, discarding the bloody rags into the nearby wastebasket and, with an audible creak, slid open the window to let the residual scent of soap and blood creep away.

Locking the door behind me, I made note of the time, and bore in mind the location I had to meet Quistis for team assignments. I proceeded down the hall, where the directory stood, and where Quistis stood, in her SeeD exam uniform – a fair exchange from her previous combat attire. She, positioned slightly behind the directory from my field of view, extended a poised wave and pleasant smile. As I neared her, she began speaking. _  
_

"I'll be announcing the squad assignments for the exam now. Squad B will consist of," She paused momentarily, attempting to recall information she had seen days before, "Oh, yes, Zell Dincht. That's his name. Quite a lively fellow." She added, hand to hip and eyebrow cocked, analyzing my unmistakable dismay.

"Lively?" I rebuked, "He's just loud." I gestured my hand and brought it to my temple, "Can't I switch members?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible, the decision is not mine to make." Quistis took a shallow breath, her eyes veering off, both lighting up in sync with her smile, "Zell! Over here!"

_And there he stood… or rather danced... Wait, what the hell is he doing? _

Punch. Kick. Kick. Jab. Punch. Uppercut. Flying tornado kick. Zell, like a child freshly enrolled in a martial arts class and eager to show the world, ricocheted towards us, huffing and puffing and striking and yelling like a reincarnate Bruce Lee. I shielded my sight with my palm, tucking my head, glancing around in a deep-seated embarrassment for him, eyes all about him from spectators cheering him on.

Zell landed abruptly in front of Quistis and I, and he shook the stars from his vision, and presented a gratified bow to his audience. He rose again, briefing looking at Quistis and then at me. "Whoa! I'm with you!?" He blurted, clearly aware of my ranking in his class.

I took a step back to create much needed distance. _Who is this guy again…? Mm. Right – the hot dog fanatic; brings food every day to class; front row seat._

Zell grinned like a cheeky schoolboy, rubbed his palm against his pants, and offered a handshake. I crossed my arms. After a few moments, his hand dropped.

"So," Zell began, raising a fist in excitement and curiosity, "You don't get along very well with Seifer do you? Heard he whooped you pretty bad this morning!" He sassed, drawing a line with his finger across his face, mirroring my scar.

"We weren't fighting. We were training." I shrugged off his comment and turned to Quistis.

Zell interposed, "Listen man, Seifer's just being an ass. All you have to do ignore him." He smiled, bringing his hands up and shrugging, "What else can you do?"

I exhaled and shifted to face him, "That's none of you-,"

"Business!" Quistis exclaimed, crossing her arms, gathering a good amount of cleavage. Zell stared. She explained, "Excuse me, that 'Seifer' you're talking about, he's your squad leader. Although his academic scores aren't as high, his physical exams, as well as his leadership scores, are all through the roof. On top of that, he's senior to both of you, and this is his _second _time taking the field exam. It can't be changed."

Zell groaned audibly, like a boy in Sunday school, eyes losing their glimmer and fists dropping like rocks to his side.

"HEY!" A deep and calm voice smacked Zell in the back of the head. "Hey there! Chicken-wuss, what are you crying about now, huh?" It was Seifer and his disparate couple of friends, Rajin, Seifer's right-hand-man, a muscular and low-IQ dropout. And Fujin, a grey-haired woman, tall and thin, with one eye obscured from view with cloth.

Quistis attempted to continue, "Seifer. You're the squad leader. Good luck to you."

"….Instructor." Seifer spoke indifferently, locking eyes with her, "I hate it when people wish me luck. Save those words for a bad student that needs them, eh?"

"Ok then," She nodded turning first to Zell and I and then back at Seifer, "Good luck, Seifer." She intoned, shifting to face us as a group. "You're all assigned to Squad B. I'll be the instructor in charge until I tell you otherwise. Teamwork is of the utmost importance. Let's get through this exam, everyone!"

"Listen up!" Seifer added, taking a step in our direction, "Teamwork means staying out of my way. Just remember that." His voice remained powerful as his dialogue trailed off.

Proceeding down the stairs located behind the directory, Headmaster Cid was making his arrival, cuff links intact, a long white shirt adorned with a forest green tie, covered by a velvet waistcoat, heading in our direction. His voice like a drum, deep and resonating: "Is everyone here?" He asked, scanning us from behind his bifocals, and adjusting his hands, crossed behind his back. "It's been awhile, everyone. How's everyone doing?" He asked, pausing long enough to imply sincerity but short enough to not merit a response. "This exam will involve twelve members from Squads A through D. You will be proceeding to a real battlefield. Obviously, the battles are for real. This field exam will determine if you have what it takes to belong to SeeD." He paused. "Life and death, victory and defeat, honor and disgrace, each of these go hand in hand. There's only one way or the other. How 'bout it?" He inquired, leaning forward at the waist, eyeing each of us, peering over the circular frames of his glasses. "Are you still up for it?" He regained posture, again not waiting for a response. "You will be accompanied by nine SeeD members. Should you fail, these members shall get the job done. They always do." And suddenly, like a phoenix rising from the ground, Cid's hands shot into the air above him, "The pride of Balamb Garden! The elite mercenary force, SeeD! Learn from them, obey their commands, and accomplish the mission. Prove yourself worthy of becoming a member of SeeD. Best of luck, to all of you," He nodded to us, raising his hand, bent at the elbow, revealing the backside of his hand – the salute of Balamb Garden. Quistis, Seifer, Zell, and I returned the salutation.

v

Ten kilometers away rested the port, and the car ride, although cramped, negated my thoughts with every twist and turn of the road. I really disliked car rides, especially riding in the rear of one. I leaned forward, lounging my elbows on my knees, dipping my head, bangs falling forward to cover my eyes.

"Yo, Squall, show me your gunblade will ya?" Zell asked.

I remained silent, unmoving.

"C'mon, man!" He insisted, uncrossing his legs and turning to face me. "Just a peek!" He clapped his hands together like a beggar.

"….."

"Tch, fine." He snorted. "Yeah… Yeah…" He shifted in his seat, first crossing his legs, and then uncrossing them, and finally crossing them again. He looked at Quistis, and then at Seifer. He uncrossed his legs and leaned again in my direction. "Ugh, why you bein' so selfish!? Scroooge!"

"….."

"Say somethin', will ya!? What's on your mind?"

"Nothing," Quistis and I chorused. I raised my head long enough to see her giggle, shoot her a look, and return to my thoughts on the upcoming exam. Zell, clearly restless, emerged. Fists ready, he arose – again fighting the air in a series of jabs and punches.

"Stop that…It's annoying," Seifer hissed, "Chicken-wuss." He watched Zell's face twist in irritation as he released a brief and hollow chuckle from his chest.

"WHAT DID YOU CALL ME!?" Zell forcefully queried, taking a step in Seifer's direction.

"Knock it off!" Quistis interjected, her words extinguishing Zell's rage, knocking him onto his seat, arms folded and gaze avert. The rest of the ride was in silence.

Our transfer from the car to the vessel was hurried. Waves lapped against the harbor, the sun glistened bright against the water, and the ocean swept in a series of frigid winds, one after another, maneuvering up my shirt and chilling my bones. The vessel, our ship, rocked against the embankment in deafening clashes, it swayed independently – the last SeeD ship to leave land. The other vessels were lined up far offshore, awaiting our arrival and their departure. Shouts from fishermen and Garden staff, and the cheers from children who watched, were almost inaudible. We, Squad B, hurried into our allotted vessel, where in a similar manner, we sat, in a similar arrangement, cramped within the confines of the battleship.

A girl, maybe twenty-four years old, was in the ship with us, and with the captain of the vessel, that makes six passengers – four members, one SeeD, one captain. She must be it. _She must be SeeD._

"Hi, Quistis," The girl spoke, rising to her feet, exchanging pleasantries with Quistis.

"Well, these are the members of Squad B! Everyone, this is Xu, she holds SeeD ranking and will be around to ensure that everything goes as planned," Quistis proclaimed, making an appropriate introduction for all of us.

Seifer remained seated, arms outstretched, boots kicked up on the table that separated the two sectors of the ship.

"Seifer, how many times has it been now?" Xu asked sardonically.

"Oh," Seifer goaded, "I just love these exams…"

Xu continued, returning her attention to the group. "I'll explain the current situation and the mission. Be seated," She began, "Our client for this mission is the Dollet Dukedom Parliament. A request for SeeD was made eighteen hours ago. Dollet has been under attack by the Galdbadian Army since about seventy-two hours ago," She sidestepped to reveal a large diagram with an up-to-date map of Dollet. "Forty-nine hours into the battle, Dollet abandoned their position in the inner city. Currently, they have retreated into the nearby mountains and are reorganizing their troops. That's the current status. Now, onto the mission objective," Her voice became stronger, collecting our attention and enlivening our spirits, "We're to make a landing at Lapin Beach. We are to eliminate the remaining Galbadian forces within the city and liberate it A.S.A.P."

"So, what are WE supposed to do?" Seifer asked. _Was he even listening..?_

"SeeD candidates are to eliminate the Galbadian Army inside the city," Xu explained.

"Sounds important!" Zell exclaimed.

"Pfft, sounds boring." Seifer countered, "So what you're saying is, we do all the little, dirty work…"

Xu shifted uncomfortably, overlooking Seifer's coarseness. "Oh, and it hardly needs to be said," She added, "But the order to withdraw takes priority. Do not forget. We're almost there. We anticipate a battle as soon as we disembark. Just be prepared. That's all. Any questions, talk to Quistis." Xu finished, removing herself from the cabin.

"Wow," Zell marveled, "Our first real battle! I'm gettin' kinda nervous."

"Better not piss your pants," Seifer replied.

"Huh? You talking to me?" Zell asked, causing Seifer to chuckle in response. "Ugh… bastard…"

Glancing over at Seifer, I wondered how much I could take of Zell and him together. I exhaled, leaning forward.

"Well then, Squall. Go see what's going on outside." Seifer ordered, casually waving his hand towards the overhang door.

"…..Ok." I agreed finally, despite my inner drive to ignore him. He was the squad leader, after all.

"Good. Because it's MY order," he snickered.

The door, locked shut by a rusted metal lever, gave fight in my attempt to unlatch it. With one powerful pull, the lever broke free, leading me to the upmost portion of the boat. I grasped the stock of the machine gun mounted overhead and pulled myself through. Pastel colors cascaded across the sky and reflected against the puffy white clouds, and like curtains, they fell deep behind the ocean's horizon, blanketed by coastal beams of sunlight and mist, shooting up from the waves that crashed against the ship. The wind chill was arctic, and like scattered rain, sheets of ice water crashed against my face. However, I remained stoic, for in the distance, like a beacon in the night, the island stood in sight, speckled with explosions that erupted from the shorelines, and the sounds of ammunition that livened the air like firecrackers.

A deep energy began to build within me, like a kindling match catching flame to a brushfire, I knew this was the day that I got to prove that everything I've been doing up to this point was not meaningless. I'm not expecting exuberant praise, medals, or awards, but I am here for one purpose. To prove I have what it takes to be SeeD.

_To hold no prey captive, no foe revived,_

_And to this life, we have arrived,_

_Steadfast in quiet abolition:_

_Of those who dare come face to face-_

_To the man who will guide them to death's embrace._


	4. Chapter IV: The Landing on Dollet

**CHAPTER IV: The Landing on Dollet**

The tri-sectioned head of the vessel, skidding across the sand, came to a stop, and all at once opened, and like a strobe light, flashes of red and white barraged the interior of the ship. Weapons in hand, grip perspiry, we charged the shore amidst heavy sprays of bullets and unexpected explosions.

"Squad B," Quistis barked, "You are to secure the Central Square. You're on your own from here on out. Good luck!"

"Let's move out." Seifer snapped, straight lining for the city. "The central square is up ahead." He paused, unsheathing his gunblade to stab the air above him, "Hey! All you Galbadian cowards out there," He shouted, "Come out'n show your faces! Don't leave me hangin' now!"

Within the city, vacant vehicles lined the slender streets of Dollet, illuminated by a dull kindling of an overhead light, and the hotels and shops, whose doors remained shut and open signs amiss, appeared empty, like a ghost town that existed on the fumes of absence. Following Seifer's indulgent pursuit to Central Square, my thoughts ran equally as fast, polluting my mind of those thoughts you get before a brutal fight. Not stemmed from fear, but excitement.

Zell and I arrived at Central Square, moments behind Seifer, where a wide fountain stood erect with stony monuments of children, who micturated into the mirky waters, adorning the pool's circumference in 'artistic' ornamentation. Seifer, who was propped against the verdant brick wall of a nearby bakery, shifted in irritation, resting his blade against his shoulder.

"You two," Seifer muttered, "scout the area for enemies." We did so. Checking down the alley ways and street corners, moving across brick-laid and tiled pathways, we searched in vain. _No enemies, no citizens. Nothing._

Zell and I returned to Seifer who sat poised in a rustic sable chair outside the bakery. The area remained quiet and calm, until an old yellow dog approached, resting at the foot of Seifer, who kicked it away, routinely removing any unwanted affection from his presence. "SCRAM!"

Minutes passed in bouts of ten when finally, the Central Square clock tower chimed sevenfold, as I sat, visually tracing the grout of the ground beneath me. I thought back to the girl at the directory earlier this morning, reminiscing on her bewildered state, attempting to analyze the map before her. Her short, bobby hair and her emerald green eyes, gazing up at me entirely discombobulated, made me wonder how she was managing right at this moment in her squad. I stopped –

Footsteps, coupled with thundering shouts and clashes of hardware, echoed from the nearest alleyway. Seifer, shooting us a glance and motioning us over, took cover behind an empty dumpster. We watched from cover as what seemed to be an endless fleet of foot soldiers rushed by, hands burdened with SMGs and whose combat pants appeared heavy with magazines of ammunition and hand bombs. Minutes passed and the city returned to its desolate state as we moved from hiding, and I, exercising my only choice, turned to Seifer for his first order as squad leader.

"'Stand by…,'" Seifer scoffed, "how boring! …I can't take it anymore. What is this, some kind of dog training!?" He exclaimed with a forceful swing of his gunblade. He glanced at and above the alley way where the mass of gun-toting soldiers had passed, where bolstered atop an overlooking mountain, a radio tower rested.

"What is that?" Zell asked, scratching his head.

"Heh, our next destination," Seifer replied, stepping onward.

"B-but that's against direct orders!" Zell countered. "Squall!" He cried, begging my intervention.

"I stand by the captain's decision."

Seifer chuckled and turned, placing a hand on my shoulder before I brushed it aside, "Ha, you want to wreak havoc too, don't you?" He asked, pointing up to the mountain.

I, shifting to face Zell, hoping not to egg on Seifer, answered, "It's a good opportunity to test out my training." I turned back to Seifer callously, "Thanks to you, I feel like I can take on anyone. Even if they fight dirty, like you."

"You'll thank me when the time comes," He parried, turning away and placing his hands on his hips hubristically.

Zell took a step back in disbelief, "What the hell! I thought you guys didn't get along? You're acting like, all buddy-buddy now… Listen," He started, "This ain't no ordinary battle. It's an EXAM… – an important one. I'm tellin' ya, we have to stick to orders!"

"Then you stay here," Seifer beamed, "I don't need any boy scouts."

"What was that!?" Zell asked angrily, letting his frustration overrule his former hesitation, "Well then if we're gonna go, let's go!"

Seifer smirked, turning to the radio tower and again resting his blade on his shoulder, "The enemy is headed for the facility. We, Squad B, are to secure the summit. Leave it to the other squads to babysit the city. Move out!"

V

The pathway to the tower lay heavy with hollow casings of bullet shells, and one after another, like props in a movie, dismembered soldiers were scattered about, more Dollet than Galbadian, as we approached the stairway up the mountain. The mountain itself had been charred and chipped from a series of attacks – the devilish destructions of war – and as we continued to climb, injured Dollet soldiers urged us to move onward.

After lying waste to a series of feeble monsters, we arrived at the doors of the tower, scathing hundreds of feet into the sky. Seifer glanced over.

"This must be your first real battle, you scared?" He asked, turning to me.

"I don't know," I answered, "I try not to think about it."

He chuckled, "I love battles. I fear nothing. The way I look at it, as long as you make it out of a battle alive, you're one step closer to fulfilling your dream."

"What? Your dream!?"

"You have one too, don't you?"

"…Sorry, but I'm gonna pass on that subject."

Perhaps it was the conversation that led my ears astray because suddenly I caught sound of footsteps from behind our squad, where to our surprise, a young female SeeD candidate appeared. And then she, like a gazelle pushed from a cliff, managed to stumble down the length of a nearby slope, streamlining towards us until becoming recognizable. She scratched her head in embarrassment, moving to her knees and rising, dusting off her skirt. It was the girl from the directory.

"Are you Squad B?" She asked, then turning to me with wide eyes, "Wait a minute! You're the guy who showed me around, right? Thank you! I don't get so lost anymore," She smiled, tugging at the large yellow bow in the front of her uniform – a customary accessory for a female SeeD candidate. "Oh yeah! I haven't told you my name yet," she realized, bringing her hand up to cover her giggle, innocence pouring from her being. "I'm… a messenger. Name's Selphie, from Squad A!" She paused, "Your squad's captain is Seifer, right? Where is he?"

At that moment Seifer was spotted, thirty yards in front of us, entering through the shallow corridor of the tower. He stopped, turning from the entranceway. "One day, I'm going to tell you about my romantic dream!" He shouted, his figure disappearing into the darkness of the radio tower.

Selphie exhaled, leaning over cumbrously. "This sure is tough…" She admitted, gathering herself and springing from her spot. "Captainnnn! Wait up!" She shouted, making haste for the door before abruptly stopping, spinning to face us. "What are you waiting for," She called, "Come on! Come on! The captain is getting away!"

And who would be surprised that once entering the tower, two Galbadian soldiers were sprawled across the steel floor, blood dripping from their wounds and mouths agape, dead.

"Well looky here," Zell jested, "A gift from Seifer."

I motioned us to take the lift up to the top of the tower where we believed Seifer to have gone. The lift, after a few rattling clanks and grinding shrieks, lifted us slowly up the lateral side of the tower. Near the top, we saw all of Dollet: the fertile highlands, lush with vegetation; the dark pits of the comatose city below; the shimmering ocean in the distance; and the neighboring mountains to our sides, where like silhouettes they hung static, congesting the scene of a sunset enveloping the horizon.

Reaching the top of the tower, two voices were heard in modulations ranging from grunts, to moans, to indignations. Our eyes cast about until they caught sight a powerful spark of electricity, where a soldier dressed in a maroon uniform stood working on one of the many satellites installed on the flat platform.

The soldier did not hear our approach for as soon as we stepped off the lift, the platform began rattling violently in place, our footing losing its hold, causing the three of us to fall knee and hand. Then like a geyser, a large cylindrical pipe shot from the hollow central holding of the tower, and like clockwork, opened and folded into a colossal structure, bending and shifting, taking form of a parabolic dish. The soldier, eyes locked above, shifted in self-indulgent pride.

"What do you think you're doing?" I asked, taking a step in his direction.

He, as if surprised in his labors, spun to face me, his head hidden by a large half-helmet that covered his eyes. "Huhhh?" The soldier grunted, "Likewise, MISTER! What do you think you're doing!? What happened to all the soldiers below!? Lieutenant Wedge, take care of these twerps! ….. W-Wedge?" He scattered his gaze about nervously, his right hand man nowhere to be found. He began moving guardedly towards the lift. "Well I'm done here, I'll just be on my way… I'm leaving. Move! Move!"

A fastidious slash cut the air, and cut clean flesh and bone, blood gushing like an overflowing reservoir. A shriek erupted from the soldier's mouth as he fell backwards onto the grated platform floor, his eyes locking onto his hand and wrist that sat severed in front of him.

"Sorry to crash the party," Seifer snorted, swiping his gunblade in the air, ridding his blade of the soldier's blood. He stepped off the platform, approaching the soldier who sat quivering beneath him.

"Are- Are you crazy!?" The soldier shrieked, kicking his feet, propelling him momentarily away from the heels of Seifer. Seifer approached the soldier again, gripping his collar and pulling him to his feet. The soldier, suspended above his pool of blood, began to turn pale, like a ghost, his feet dangling from the ground, his dialect gurgling unintelligibly in Seifer's clutch.

From around the corner, another Galbadian officer appeared in blue uniform, presumably Lieutenant Wedge, but he too was quickly disposed of. For as he turned the corner, Seifer shunted the one-handed soldier from his grip, heaving the soldiers into one another, locking them together. I presume that a deep, recessed fear gripped their souls in the moments following, for Seifer, lunging at them with a thrusting kick, propelled them from the pinnacle of the tower, sending them tumbling down the mountainside.

Selphie, shocked from her witness of Seifer's slaughter, began stammering, "Squad B captain? S'cuse me, I have new orders!"

"Spit it out."

"All SeeD members and SeeD candidates are to withdraw at 2100 hours. Assemble at the shore."

"Withdraw!? There are still enemies around!"

"I know, but I'm just a messenger."

I motioned Zell to the lift, "An order to withdraw takes priority. I don't want to miss the vessel."

Seifer groaned, turning to Selphie. "What time d'you say?"

"Like I said: All SeeD members and SeeD candidates are to withdraw at 1900 hours. Assemble at the shore!"

"1900 hours…? We only have thirty minutes!" He proclaimed moving to the lift, shoving Zell and I from our spot. "We got thirty minutes to get down to the shore. Better run," He yelled, carrying himself down through the lift, saluting us a farewell.

"Gah!" Zell shrieked, "Who the heck does he think he is!?"

A minute later the lift returned and we rode it to the bottom. We stepped onto the dirt path, exiting the tower. The sun was setting, dusk hung in the distance, and I adjusted my watch's timer for twenty-five minutes. It was then that we heard an unfamiliar groan – I drew my blade.

"You… SeeD… You're going to pay…" His words were choppy and blood rolled down his face. It was the soldier in red and the soldier in blue, bodies tangled up like pretzels, joints mangled from their sockets. The soldier in red, lying over the soldier in blue who remained unconscious, reached deep in his pocket, pulling out a thick pen-shaped object with a vibrant red button. "Die…" He muttered, his thumb pressing down rigidly.

Atop the tower where we had just left, a clatter of machinery began building – the whirring of rotation belts, the boisterous firing of rhythmic pistons, the strident groan of an engine – and we, witnessing a large and indistinguishable mass of metal approach the edge of the platform above, made a unanimous decision to turn and sprint. We didn't make it far before a loud thud crashed behind us.

I felt my legs gorge themselves full of blood. In my head, I could feel my heart beating fast, filling me with nothing but the instinct to run and make it back to Lapin Beach. My mind soared from my being – I could see the vessels lined up on the beach one-by-one, the red sun setting on the horizon, the wind whistling sharply as it converged upon the shoreline, and Quistis, waiting anxiously as the final call for SeeD withdrawal is made.

_And then, I did what every marathon or cross-country runner would tell you not to do: I peered over my shoulder to look behind me… and I saw it._

Everything yielded to this machine: the ground cracked beneath it and the boulders it stepped on split to slabs of rock, pebble, and dust. Its design was bizarre but daunting – four legs suspended the large metal body from the ground fifteen feet, adorned with lights that would scan its surroundings in beams of red, and a weight so heavy that the ground shuddered with each step it took.

The realization of what was occurring began to take grip on me. My legs started to lose their steam, turning into torpid mounds of flesh that felt like gelatin left forgotten in the fridge. My breath became shallow. I felt the rumble of the earth beneath me as it neared. My mind raced. I felt the heat emanate from my body coupled with the eerie chill of sweat bleeding down my torso.

I stopped running... I just stopped. Zell and Selphie passed me and moved a few paces ahead before turning around in confusion and turmoil. No words were spoken. I drew my gunblade and motioned them onward: through the slender city streets where vehicles rested lifeless against sidewalk curbs, past the florid landscaping arranged meticulously on the windowsills of vacant shops, down the sandy stairs that lead to the beach, and onto the vessel where Quistis scanned the city limits apprehensively.

The mass of steel, the machine, the vehicle… whatever it was that I turned to face – it was going to catch us all if someone didn't do something. Someone had to slow it down somehow, or we were all going to end up dead, run down by Galbadian weaponry. Someone had to stall it. And so I decided:

.

..

…

….**_I will. _**

I turned to face the monstrous machine, weapon drawn and eyes ablaze. Zell and Selphie took off into the distance despite their urge to stay and help, coerced by my sudden upheaval of squad control.

I exhaled slowly, lowering the tip of my weapon inches above the ground …and charged.


	5. Chapter V: Force Your Way

**CHAPTER V: Force Your Way**

For some reason, I thought back to my childhood. It was kind of sad because I truly couldn't remember almost any of it. Reminiscence only brings on an all too familiar pain, nothing else. _Do I not remember my childhood because of the GF's side effects of memory loss, or was my childhood so unpleasant that somewhere in my life I chose to dump every memory I had of it? Who were my parents? Where did they go? Was I loved? If I did have parents, why did they leave me? It doesn't matter._ It didn't matter because they were gone and all I have is me. No one to satisfy, no one to impress, no one to worry about when things go wrong, and no one that I will ever have to miss. _I'm doing ok, right? Yeah… I'm doing ok by myself. _

I'm not sure why my mind reeled like that, in this moment. I heard the roil of the air as I swung my blade, and I felt the hard recoil reverberate up to my head, rattling my skull, as my blade bounced off the steel body of the machine. _Why do people even rely on each other? Why put your faith into someone else when all they're going to do is take care of themselves first when everything goes wrong? Why do people do that to themselves? _I took a step back from the metal beast before me.

My throat was dry, I could hardly swallow. My hands throbbed from the vibrations. My head pounded. The animalistic machine took a long and wide swipe at me. I ducked, tucking my torso and running underneath the machine where a whirring of contraptions above deafened my inner dialogue. My eyes cast about the underbelly of my opponent – wires everywhere.

I lifted my weapon, wedging my blade in the crevice of the front limb and body, and I watched it, unaware of my position, scan the area in beams of red, panning left to right and back, right to left. I pinched the trigger to my gunblade, slicing through a series of red, black, blue, and white wires. I dove from beneath it, rolling across the dirt and rising to my hands and feet as the machine crashed to the ground unable to support its weight. I sheathed my gunblade, watching the contraception convulse and twist as it tried to regain footing. I thought back to the research I was doing in homeroom.

It was for my Geography class and served to examine the effects that the appearance of monsters has had on our ecosystem. I was caught analyzing extinct animals, specifically a species known as the Griever Lion. This species was the last 'real' land-dwelling animal to exist, due to its fierce and valiant nature. I remember watching a clip of them take down and devour one of the strongest and most deadly monsters ever recorded. _The one thing that can be learned from a lion is that whatever a man intends to do, he should do it whole-heartedly without hesitation, and with gallant effort._

An automated voice pierced the air: **"RESTORATION PROGRAM INITIATED. BACK-UP CABLES ENABLED. RESTARTING IN 5….4….3…"**

I turned to run; I wasn't about to stay and fight this thing again. I heard the buzzing of the engine behind me, and I felt the ground begin to tremble once more. I peered over my shoulder – I had made it about 150 yards, and it was charging back, completely unscathed. I advanced to a sprint where I passed the bakery and saw the old yellow dog whimpering in the recesses of a vacant alleyway. I passed a series of cars with muddy doors and greasy windows that lingered outside an old hotel. I glanced over again: the machine was twenty-five yards from me, moving more swift and agile than before. _There's no way I can outrun this thing._

I rotated just in time to meet it face on and body-to-body. It's cold and rigid frame crashed against me with the entirety of its momentum. I felt like I was flying, and presumably I was, because moments later I was met by a brick wall and crashed to the ground. I couldn't feel my legs. _Oh, God. Am I paralyzed? _ I sat up best I could and leaned my back against the wall I had just collided with.

I couldn't feel much. I lifted my head and saw two… no, three machines approaching me. I knew my vision was off: the entire ground – with the cars, and the lights, and the buildings – was swaying to and fro. I reached for my weapon, where it lied equally inert against the coarse and pothole-ridden pavement. The machine neared so close I could almost reach up and touch it. It lifted one of its enormous legs, pulling back with a thunderous grinding of gears, adjusting to strike.

_It happened so suddenly. _In a blur, I saw a figure leap from the rooftop above, landing abruptly fist-first onto my opponent. The machine crashed to the ground again, causing cracks to disseminate across the road like lightening. Red shards from its interface peppered the air and fell upon my legs and hair like cuspate hail. My double-vision began to fade as it focalized on a figure, standing up and pulling his hands from a large and fresh concave dent. He cracked his hand and shook it to the air. Another figure approached me and extended a hand to help me up. As I was assisted to my feet, all I could see was yellow. _Is that… a bow?_

I stood there, frozen in incredulity. A blanket of disbelief cast itself upon me. I swallowed hard. I took a step back, reclining myself against the firmness of the wall. It was Zell. And it was Selphie. _They came back…? _Every inch of me yearned to comprehend the reasoning behind their return. _Why would they come back? Why would they come back for me?_ I crossed my arms and bowed my head. _That's why... How bad would it look if they left me, a fellow member of their squad, behind? They're just come back to save their ranking for SeeD. Nothing else._

Selphie, abrupt as their appearance, swung my arm over her shoulder and limped us to the side of the street.

"Zell, he's paralyzed! Hold him!" She cried, extending her hands to my lumbar spine. "CURE!" She commanded as a blue and pink aura ruptured from her palms and entered my back. A cold chill moved up and down my spine, preceded by a caustic blaze of heat, and finished with an eerie prickle of pins and needles. "Thank God…" She whispered to herself, relieved.

Zell, placing a hand on our backs, pushed us in the direction of the beach. "It's just up ahead!" He shouted from behind. He was right. The scent of salt hung in the air like a lavish perfume; the final beams of a dimming sunset illuminated the streets in vivid shades of orange; and like a whale beached upon the sand, our vessel stood faithfully on the shoreline, erect and unmoving.

The machine, rejuvenated from Zell's stunning blow, threatened our advance as we raced down the final stretches of the city block. I watched Zell who was in the lead rush down the stairs and streamline for the vessel, followed by Selphie who carefully scurried down the stairs behind him. I sprinted for the stairway and felt a dense wave of heat emanate from the frontal exhaust vents of the machine as I neared the edge. I dove right over the stairwell, rolling across the sand - met with its bitter grittiness in my mouth and painful sting in my eyes. Each step of my sprint was diminished in the lithe texture of the sand. I felt as if each stride was in slow motion, inching me towards the shoreline. The ground quivered beneath me. Even in the sand, I could feel each and every step of the machine. Ahead, I saw them climb into the ship, frantically waving me to board. They were screaming in unison, so loud and so hysterically that their words and sentences lost meaning and drowned in their overwhelming distress.

Their hands outstretched from within the ship, seeking desperately for my grasp. I dove laboriously for their grip, propelling my body into the air until I met the sand and skimmed across it, finally locking hands with them.

**_Errrrrr... BRATATATATATATA._ ** The sound of the overhead machine gun rattled in the air, causing the ship to vibrate incessantly. I collapsed to the ground inside, relieved, as the tri-sectioned head of the vessel closed. Selphie loomed over me in relief, but with unsettled eyes. She reached down and gripped my hand genially in hers. I rose to my feet, offhandedly removing her grasp.

V

Back at Garden, the air felt chilly with uncertainty. Zell and Selphie had left my company shortly after arriving back, and I, buried in my yearning for peace and quiet, had started towards my room when the Garden's P.A. system sounded: "ALL STUDENTS WHO PARTICIPATED IN TODAY'S FIELD EXAM, REPORT TO THE SECOND FLOOR HALLWAY FOR TEST RESULTS."

I moved my way up the elevator and didn't venture far on the second floor when I was met by Seifer's pompous disposition. He stood there, almost as if he was waiting for my arrival. He started: "D'you hear about the communication tower in Dollet?" He paused, shifting his body away from me, propping his elbows onto the balcony railing. "Nobody realized the Galbadian Army was after the abandoned communication tower. They even agreed to withdraw their troops from Dollet if the tower is repaired and the uplink remains operational. We would've been heroes if it weren't for that withdraw order," He hissed, his gaze adrift.

Quistis approached from behind, arms folded and eyes locked onto him. She was accompanied by both Headmaster Cid and Xu from the ship. "You were only looking for a fight," She accused. Seifer remained stagnant, refusing to lock eyes with her.

"My dear instructor," He began, "I'm hurt. Those are rather cruel words for an aspiring student… A mediocre instructor like you will never understand."

Xu intervened: "Don't be so stuck on yourself. You'll take all responsibility for leaving the designated area."

"Isn't it the captain's duty to take the best possible action?"

"Seifer, you'll never be a SeeD. Calling yourself a 'captain' is a joke," She conceded. I watched as she took Quistis by the shoulder and led her away. Cid motioned Seifer and I to him, plunging his hands deep into his waistcoat. His face was covered in dismay.

His voice was strong and impressionable. "Seifer," He began, drawing a deep, long breath into his abdomen, letting it escape languidly into the air before us. "You will be disciplined for your irresponsible behavior. You must follow orders exactly during combat. But I'm not entirely without sympathy for you," He admitted, placing a hand onto our shoulders, "I don't want you all to become machines. I want you all to be able to think and act for yourselves." His secretary appeared, bearing a large pile of papers. Cid rubbed his head and sighed. "There are so many issues at hand here. We'll talk soon," He added, walking off.

The air was heavy between Seifer and me. He shunted a scoff into the air and I watched, somewhat empathetically, as he disappeared into the elevator filled with resentment and anguish. _What did he expect? You don't disobey orders. That's how you get yourself killed. _I stopped. _But is that really different than what I did in Dollet?_

Six of the twelve SeeD candidates who had participated in the field exam waited anxiously in the designated hallway, outside the classroom and in between two bear-faced windows. I'm not sure where the other half who participated were – presumably waiting in a less congested area. We had to have been there thirty minutes before one of our Garden's staff members appeared holding a small slip of paper. "Dincht," An unfamiliar voice pronounced, "Zell Dincht."

I watched Zell a few feet away leap into the air nearly six feet with fists high. "OHHHH YEAHHHHH! See ya!"

The staff member continued, "Squall… Squall from Squad B. Please step forward." _Wow. Zell and I made it? How did that happen? We almost didn't even make it back alive._

We rode the elevator up to the third floor: Headmaster Cid's office. The ride up was strangely silent; I assume Zell was wholeheartedly invested in trying to remain calm, as to appear professional in front of the man who started it all.

Cid's office was immense. His desk was all one piece including the chair, which looked to be cast from archaic scrap. _Strange._ His figure retained its distinguished semblance as he rose, eyes full of admiration, when we stepped into his office. Another SeeD candidate I never noticed before was already there standing next to… Selphie. _Selphie made it._ She snuck a stifled wave in our direction as Cid peered down to adjust his tie. We fell in line next to her.

"First of all, congratulations," Cid began, "However, from now on as a member of SeeD, you will be dispatched all over the world. We are proud to introduce SeeD: Balamb Garden's mercenary soldiers. SeeD soldiers are combat specialists, but that is only one aspect of SeeD. SeeD's reputation is solely dependent on each one of you. Exercise great care in all of your future missions. I trust each and every one of you; otherwise, you would not be standing here today." He lifted his index finger, forcing his glasses back to the uppermost ridge of his nose.

Cid's aura weakened in gravity as he began making rounds, exam reports in hand, starting with Selphie: "I'm looking forward to the Garden Festival," He goaded, causing Selphie to giggle in absolute admiration. He handed her a thick manila folder. I noted the text: Selphie Tilmitt: SeeD.

After cautioning Zell to 'control his emotions' and reveling in the fact that a gunblade specialist was added to SeeD, he dismissed us energetically from his office, jesting that our new ranking has limited his free time with new reports that must promptly be written and filed.

How could I describe how I felt and what I saw? I've finally done it; I had become a member of SeeD._ But, why don't I feel more thrilled than this? Is this really the top rung of my life? Is this who I am – just another member of SeeD? Is this the epitome of what fate has for me? _Those thoughts really bothered me. I didn't know what was wrong with me. _This just doesn't feel like how I pictured._ I watched Zell and Selphie skip and jump and holler down the hallway, dancing like two ecstatic children, filling the second floor with sounds of felicity and pride.

"Yo, Squall," Zell was so loud and so near that I could smell his breath. I wanted to knock him away. _Ugh… hotdogs. _He continued, "Let's get back to class!" I cocked my eyebrow in confusion. _Why would we go back there? We're done._ "Don't tell me you don't remember what the new SeeD members do! They give a speech in front of the entire class! And after that," He paused as I watched his body slowly build with energy until he appeared ready to burst, "It's the inauguration PARTAYYYYY!"

I mutely turned away from him and began walking back towards the classroom, both getting away from Zell's breath and arriving to class early. Aside from the cheers behind me, the corridor seemed unusually quiet. Night had fallen, and although it wasn't 'late,' a strange absence hung in the air like a ghost, dispelling all noise and life from its presence. I rounded the corner, and what I saw was almost enough to make me want to turn around and walk back to Zell.

Seifer stood there amidst a mass of other students, including his two delinquent friends and all of my former classmates. I stopped in my tracks, awaiting a snide remark from Seifer or a dozen jealous eyes to envelop me. Seifer raised his hands and began clapping, followed by the rest of the students, until the entire hallway erupted in applause, beckoning Selphie and Zell from down the hall to stand humbly before it.

Zell bowed, running a hand through his blond, over-waxed hair. "Alright guys! Let's party!"

_No… This can't be 'IT.' There has to be SOMETHING else. _I plowed my way through the crowd that felt little like a group of students and more like a gang of dismembered hands patting and rubbing me in a such a flattering and celebratory way that I just wanted to disappear: disappear from my classmates' notion that I'm some kind of role-model to look up to; disappear from Seifer's unusual benevolence and good sportsmanship; and most of all, disappear from this creeping sentiment that I need something more in life. _I don't. I'm a SeeD from Balamb Garden's Military Academy. I'm here to do what's ordered. It doesn't require an opinion. It doesn't require my understanding, or my moral compliance. It doesn't even require feelings or thinking. So just stop thinking… Stop... thinking._

Somewhat reluctantly, I convinced myself that going to the inauguration ball was the best thing to do right now. I could either drive away these thoughts with outside noise or drown in them. And given the emotional pry these thoughts were inducing, I decided the party was definitely the weaker poison.


	6. Chapter VI: Waltz for the Moon

**FINAL FANTASY VIII: THE NOVEL**

**CHAPTER VI: Waltz for the Moon**

"Ha! Found you!" Selphie stood there inside the door-frame of my suite, beneath the fluorescent lights that hung idly above, casting a long and slender shadow across the floor, crawling at my feet. She sprang forward with wide arms, rotating her figure left and right. "Well, what do you think!?"

Her slender build – her pale skin; her bobby brown hair that fell just above her shoulders and whose ends flipped playfully outwards; her modest chest size – complimented her figure and proved to be a fair embodiment of her bubbly personality. Within an hour, she had managed to pour her individuality carefully into the confines of a sleek midnight-black pencil skirt and matching dress shirt with maroon accents, cuffs, and a tie, a pair of long black socks that stretched just below her delicate knees, and tiny black shoes that knocked passionately against the floor. She took a step back, swinging her hands towards my room, "You get dressed too," She insisted, "We've got a party to go to!"

Inside my room and resting neatly across my comforter was the widely exalted male SeeD uniform. The standing collar of the vestment stood between a drape of fabric that resembled shoulder armor with blue and silver accents and a metal clasp. The vestment itself was a button-up tunic with gold trim, matching maroon cuffs and fitted with a black Sam Browne belt. A pair of ironed black pants hung from the headboard of my bed, draping down and leading to a pair of tall, dark boots.

It wasn't long until I was fully dressed and exiled from my room by Selphie's grasp as she rushed down the hallway towards the ballroom. Sounds of laughter and music spilled from the crevices of the large doors as we neared, and somewhere deep in my gut, I had an overwhelming urge to turn back and avoid it all together. Selphie, first gathering herself and loosening her collar, swung the door open so precipitously that she nearly fell back onto me. Then she, like my eagerness, disappeared within the gut of the crowd. I felt like a lost child within the entirety of unfamiliar faces, elbow-to-elbow, until I managed to find a spot, devoid of company, where I rested myself against a wall, teeming with that all-too-familiar discomfort that coursed within my blood and made even the opulent champagne distasteful.

However, I couldn't help but appreciate the grandiose atmosphere of the ballroom, which typically remained unused throughout most of the year. Headmaster Cid really goes all out for these ceremonies – large bouquets hung from the marble pillars, the brass bars that adorned the walls were polished and gleaming, the enormous glass dome-like ceiling bore no watermarks from rain, and the added lighting lit the room in such a particular, yet charming, design.

Between the swaying bodies of those waltzing on the ballroom floor, I caught glimpse of Zell, who after discarding his glass of champagne discreetly on the edge of a table, filled a cup full of punch, swooping the ladle to and from until the pungent liquid nearly spilled over in his hand. I'm guessing the champagne was too mature for his taste. We locked eyes momentarily, and he moved forward in my direction, mistaking my observation for invitation.

"Yo! What's up Squall! I guess we're both SeeDs now, huh?!" Zell shrilled, rubbing his right palm fervently against his pants before extending it, "Put it there, man."

His hand stood there motionless, extended in empty space. I took a swig from my champagne and felt the fizz linger down my throat and settle in my stomach. I allowed my gaze to travel along one of the bolstered brass bars beside me until my attention was thoroughly averted. He withdrew his hand, snickered, and dropped his head.

"Hah, even as a SeeD you're still the same. Well, that's typical of you," He chortled, shrugging, " See ya man!" He didn't run far until he was met by Selphie's inquisitive and timid voice.

I listened from afar –

"Oh… hey, Zell. Wanna join the Garden Festival committee and…"

"Sorry! I… ahh… Just remembered something! G-Gotta go. See ya!"

"Hmm…. Squall! There you are!"

I was beginning to understand Selphie a little bit more. Her attention and company never held out very long and she tended to fade in and out like a ghost, gathering what she wanted and then once attaining it, slowly disappearing into her next little adventure. She started, "Wanna join the Garden Festival committee? You can help out whenever you have free time. Please?" She begged with a tilt of her head, bringing her hands up in front of her as if in prayer. I kind of felt bad.

_I mean, I'm not indifferent towards people because I want to make them feel bad. Zell… Selphie… They're just being friendly. But that's dangerous, especially in our line of work. Things happen and people tend to make promises they can't keep. I don't want to put them, or put myself, in that kind of situation. But…_

I hesitated, "Sure... You seem to be putting a lot of effort into this."

"REALLY!? Whoo-hoo! I know we'll be busy with a lot of SeeD stuff, but let's work hard on the Garden Festival, too. Bye!" She smiled, waved and walked off. I finished the last mouthful of my drink.

I sighed, my breath escaping me, as my eyes wondered the glass dome overhead until they got caught amidst the stars and constellations. The moon peered down from above like a cheerful specter and the crystal chandelier above arrested my gaze, leading me down to eye level, where I was met with the watchful eyes of a girl with flowing hair and a delicate smile. She started to walk in my direction, and I found myself hoping she would just walk by. She didn't.

She stopped abruptly in front of me. Her black hair fell softly against the contrast of her short, ivory dress. A small metal chain with a ring hung around her neck. Her thin lips curved into a playful smile. All the while, I felt an unfamiliar lump form in my throat.

"You're the best looking guy here," She whispered, "Dance with me?"

My glass was empty, but I lifted it and pretended to take a swig anyway – hoping that the mere action would wash down the knot in my throat.

"Let me guess… You'll only dance with someone you like. Ok then…" She said, taking a step forward and leaning in, her face inches away from mine. I felt my body temperature rise as she followed my gaze with her deep, dark, and beautiful eyes. "Look into my eyes… You're going to like me… You're going to like me…" She paused, "Did it work?"

"… I can't dance."

"You'll be fine. Come on," She insisted, pulling me from the wall, "I'm looking for someone anyway. I can't be on the dance floor alone."

As if on cue, the music bellowed. She spun to face me, adjusting my hands onto her. I moved with her, but more like a drunkard stumbling home from a pub and less like a dancer, nearly knocking her over twice. She threw her hand down. _Forget this._ I removed her hand and turned to walk away, but was seized again and thrown back into the beat. She glided about like an angel in the clouds, coasting across the floor in such a smooth and elegant manner that I almost felt foolish in front of her.

And by the time I got the hang of it, or at least thought I did, the song ended, but she stayed pressed to me, close against my chest. The lights faded within the ballroom until the floor became lit by fireworks overhead, popping in a glitz of color that painted the night sky in vivid shades of chaos. Something unfamiliar hung in the air, a strange magnetism between us, and then –

She was gone. As fleeting as the dying embers from the fireworks above, she excused herself after seeing that 'someone' she was looking for. But I didn't care; it just served as a valid excuse to get out of here anyway. I found myself moments later on the balcony outside, emerged in the comfort of the frigid air. Quistis approached from behind.

I was expecting her to say something, but she didn't. I was expecting her talk about the field exam, or the future of SeeD, or maybe even how Cid's wife wasn't around for the party tonight, or ever, but she didn't. Minutes passed, and so I asked: "Yes?"

Somewhat angrily, she replied: "So you'll dance with someone you don't even know, but you can't stand being around me?"

"…Whatever. You're an instructor and I'm your student. It's kind of awkward when you don't say anything."

She somewhat chuckled. "Ok, that's true. I was like that myself." She crossed her arms and leaned forward against the stone railing. "Oh, I completely forgot. I wonder what's to become of me." The scent of bubbly hung warm upon her breath. I wasn't sure what she was talking about, but she continued: "I'm no longer an instructor as of now. I'm a member of SeeD now, just like you. Who knows, maybe we'll end up working together."

"…Oh really?"

"Is that all you're going to say?"

"If that's how it was decided, you have to abide by it."

There was a moment of silence.

"They told me that I failed as an instructor. Basically, that I lacked leadership qualities." **Silence...** "I was a SeeD by the age of fifteen, got my instructor license at seventeen. It's only been a year since I've got it." **Silence...** "I wonder where I went wrong. I did my best." **Silence…** "Are you even listening?"

"Are you done yet? …I don't wanna talk about it. What am I supposed to say about other people's problems?"

"But I'm not asking you to say anything. I just want you to listen."

"Then go talk to wall."

"Aren't there times when you want to share your feelings with someone?"

"Everyone has to take care of themselves." I stepped back towards the ballroom, my back turned coldly: "I don't want to carry anyone's burden." And that was true, so I left.

_There's no sense in investing your weakness into someone else, even if it makes you feel 'better.' In the end, no one will be there to coddle your insecurities, so there's no sense in telling anyone about them, ever._

These were the rationales that knocked incessantly against the door to my thoughts, like demons outside of a church that enter, locking the doors and sealing the windows, barring everything but themselves out.

And so I buried my head deep into my pillow.

And I groaned.

And I fell asleep.

* * *

_Note from the Author: Hey guys, I hope you all are enjoying the story so far! It's getting exciting, at least for me, because Squall is slowly going to be examining/coming into touch with his emotions the more Rinoa comes into the picture! It's a lot of fun to write! Enjoy!_


	7. Chapter VII: Inception

**CHAPTER VII: Inception**

Morning came quickly; the scent of flowers and fine linen swept across my bed sheets from the window, carried by the crispness of an October wind, and coupled with patches of sunlight that warmed the floor beneath. The day had finally arrived – the first mission as SeeD.

Headmaster Cid met Selphie, Zell, and I at the front gate, wielding his usual pair of bifocals that rested beyond his altruistic gaze, offering words of encouragement and care. He explained that Garden had accepted a "low-profit" commission – an operation that yielded only three SeeD members. Headmaster Cid is known for being a man with a benevolent heart, earning the respect from those he comes in contact with, including other Gardens. However, he is also known for his ruthlessness in war, his cunning in strategy, and his myopic sense of clemency once victory is attained. He is a man who is greatly celebrated as an ally or deeply feared as an enemy.

Our mission was to go to a city known as Timber, which was currently commandeered under Galbadian law. The steps were simple: travel by train to Timber; meet with a resistance faction at the train station; support the faction and aid them in their objective; collect pay; return to Garden. We were armed with our weapons and our words; nothing else – no radios, no phones, no additional aid.

Headmaster Cid adjusted his tie and added: "A member of the faction will contact you once you disembark and will say that 'the forests of Timber sure have changed.' At this time, you must reply," He paused and removed a slip of paper from his pants, reading it aloud: "'_But the owls are still around_.' That is the password; do not forget it."

Soon after, and due to the fact that Balamb Garden had special ties with the region, the three of us found ourselves boarding the train with little to no trouble. No security checks, no exchange of currency, and most importantly, no questions.

The cabin in our train was empty and devoid of other passengers. Nothing but the whistle of the train's horn ahead, the grinding of the rails below, and the soft shake and rattle of the floor existed. Zell entertained himself across the room, scavenging the crevices of seats and cushions for loose change, and Selphie peered out the window, watching the endless stream of trees, grass, mountains, and sky roll by. Me? I sat down, mind you, far from Zell and closer to Selphie, resting my head against my palms, wondering at what age I started getting motion sickness. It was an unfamiliar nausea. A strange ringing crept into my senses; you know, that sound that comes about when you're alone in a room and have an inkling that someone's talking about you.

"Guys… I don't feel very good," Selphie staggered weakly from the scenic view of the train window, head bowed, with one hand cupping her stomach and the other cupping her ear. She dropped to her knees. "I'm really sleepy…" She said, leaning down and sprawling herself across the floor.

I stood up; in my head, the ringing became so loud that I could barely hear the clamor of the train. I watched Selphie's lips move but heard nothing, watching her lie there like a lifeless doll against the decorative design of the carpet. Completely frail. Completely alone. My body too, felt like it was shutting down, but I managed to voice myself: "Selphie, are you… ok?" My knees grew weak. My throat clenched. A cold fist tightened within the hollow of my chest, squeezing my gut and hushing my breath. My vision faded in and out like a dying flame, catching glimpse of Zell who had already succumbed to what was happening. _What was happening? _

My knees gave way and I collapsed to the floor with a sense of daunting confusion. _Are we poisoned?_ I felt my energy escaping me, like the lull of sleep after days of avoiding it. _What is this? _I saw Zell prostrated – half of him prone to the floor and half of him limp against a chair – his change spilling across the carpet in one loose-handed dump._ I'm so tired…_ I couldn't fight it anymore; I didn't want to. _I… can't go to… sleep… I…_

**_….. #$% #%$#% ##% $#% %#$ %..._**

**_….. #$% #%$#% ##% $#% %#$ %..._**

**_….. #$% #%$#% ##% $#% %#$ %..._**

I woke up, but I wasn't me.

* * *

Note from the author: _This is a short chapter, I know. Chapter VIII is soon to come!_


	8. Chapter VIII: Guns, Roses, and Wine

**CHAPTER VIII: Guns, Roses, and Wine**

_I don't rest faith in fantasies. I don't believe in fate, or destiny, or coincidence. There's no such thing as soul mates, reincarnation, or ghosts. _

_ At least that's what I used to think. Almost an hour had passed since I "woke" up. I had no body… No hands, no feet, no skin, and no sense of gravity. If there is a God, perhaps this is some sort of punishment, damned to watch over the souls of the living from above. _Below, three soldiers dressed in blue Galbadia militia gear clambered through lush vegetation – climbing over logs, bushes, weeds, and vines – deep within a forest.

Intuitively, I somehow knew their names,_ and my thoughts became uncontrollably silent until all I could do was watch._

_**….. #$% #%$#% ##% $#% %#$ %...**_

_**….. #$% #%$#% ##% $#% %#$ %...**_

_**….. #$% #%$#% ##% $#% %#$ %...**_

_There was a man wielding a machinegun named Laguna Loire who led the two others. Dusty black hair fell to his shoulders and framed a smooth yet defined jaw line and frosty blue eyes. His thin lips curved in false bravado as he searched his GPS for direction, leading the two other men into a glistening creek, overflowing with the jumping of pink salmon and gleaming rainbow trout. One fish in particular flung itself from the rigid flow of the waters and smacked the largest soldier who was lagging behind in the face._

_This soldier's name was Ward Zabac. Now, Ward was a beast of a man, weighing in at around 125kg and standing large at seven-foot-nothing. His legs moved like tree trunks through the waters, a harpoon heavy upon his back, and although he was not a man quick to temper, the salmon hard against his face had pushed him too far. He took sturdy grip of the weapon from his back and began stabbing the water repeatedly, and with great fervor, causing ripples, waves, and splashes to erupt from the origin of his wrath._

_Laguna, turning around first in suspense, then confusion, and finally delight, erupted in laughter at Ward's outburst. He lifted his hand to cover his face from the splashes of water that approached him like a series of liquid mountains, towering overhead and splashing down upon him._

_Ward eventually seized his onslaught, his harpoon shoveled into the shallow depth of the creek, and he leaned heavy upon it, his back rising and falling with each exhaustive breath. He reached a hand up to his tender cheek and brushed over the bright red fish imprint ever so lightly, causing Laguna to explode in gut-wrenching laughter._

_The final soldier, a tall, dark, and slender man, approached Ward and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We need to hurry," He urged. He removed himself from the creek, sending a courteous smile to his comrades, but retaining a 'let's-get-the-hell-going-before-the-enemy-finds-u s-and-we're-dead' look on his face. He lifted his hand and wrenched his dreadlocks of water. His name was Kiros Seagill – swift, witty, logical, and childhood friend to Laguna. Out of the three, he served as the voice of reason in aid of Laguna's leadership._

_"You, my dearest friend, are right!" Laguna conceded, "Our ride is just around the corner fellas! Follow me!"_

_ ... Thirty minutes pass by…_

_ … Followed by an hour..._

_ … Make that two hours…_

_**CLANG. CLANG. CLANG. …CLANG. **The sound of metal being dropped to the earthy ground boomed from behind Laguna and Kiros. It was Ward, relinquishing his armor and gargantuan harpoon to the ground, sweat pouring from the stubble on his chin. Breath heavy, he had taken a knee, his damp white t-shirt still clinging to his chest and bulbous gut. "I can't," His breathing broke apart his sentence in unintelligible chunks; "We're lost again, aren't we?"_

_Laguna reached up and scratched his head, "Uhh… of course not! Anyway, we're goin' home! Deling City, here we come!" Laguna sprung from his spot down a dense path overgrown with green weeds and crowded shrubs._

_"W-wait! Laguna!" Ward bellowed, heaving himself from the ground in pursuit of Kiros, who sprung in pursuit of Laguna._

_Thirty yards up they spotted the vehicle hidden behind the abundance of dense branches and severed boughs. With a swift but subtle grinding of gears as Laguna shifted into drive, accompanied by the whiplashing jerk of the vehicle, the three were on their way out of the forest and onto the streets of Deling City._

_**V**_

_"H-hey! You can't park in the middle of the street Laguna!" Ward exclaimed excitedly from the back seat, causing the vehicle to rock back and forth._

_"Chill man, it's cool. Its pavement; it was made to be parked on," Laguna said with a hint of indifference, turning off the engine and swinging the driver door abruptly open. "Alright then," he said, his anticipation building, "How's about a drink!"_

_Kiros emerged from the car, first by his long slender legs, followed by what was left of him. He dusted his shoulder of a leaf. "We're not just here for the booze, are we? We've got a war to fight… Not to mention we couldn't even pay the last tab we racked up when—"_

_Ward hurdled himself from the backseat of the vehicle onto the street like a wrecking ball, flinging his hands passionately onto the shoulders of his friends, "SO! We'll get smashed, and then, we'll **CHAAARGE**!" Ward's outburst sent a shiver of empathetic glee through their spines, reminding them of good times passed._

_Kiros released a candid snicker, adding: "Well, a friendly drink or two never hurt!"_

_The three of them were the best of pals, and they were inadvertently determined to show Deling City exactly how good of friends they were. Laguna cracked cheesy one-liners, Kiros danced, and Ward dabbled in flippant feats of strength. They roared in heavy laughter, exchanged snippets of witty banter, and gamboled the entire way to the doors of the luxurious Galbadia Hotel._

_Laguna entered the hotel first and savored the refreshing chill of A/C against his skin. The Galbadia Hotel was recognized throughout the continent as being the most extravagant five-star hotel in the region — noted for their sumptuous selection of wine and spirits, lavish suites, elegant bar, and grandiose ambience. The three soldiers found themselves above the spiral of a staircase that led down to a sidebar, white clothed tables prepared with wine glasses and folded serviettes, and a stage where a large grand piano rested. The ardent sounds that resonated from the instrument and softened the air were as beautiful as the ornate decoration of the walls and the carved marble statues placed throughout the lobby. They made their way down the staircase and were escorted to their 'usual' table and booth._

_"We're goin' all out tonight, right boys!?" Laguna asked. Ward echoed with a big thumbs up and Kiros agreed with an assured nod and placid smirk. They ordered their 'usual' drinks._

_"So, Laguna," Ward began, "Julia's music is as equally charming as her beauty tonight, wouldn't ya say?" He goaded, nudging Laguna with his elbow. His tone was not only unbelievably deep, but his strong voice carried across rooms like a sports broadcaster in a morgue._

_"Hush! Hush! Hush!" Laguna urged, causing Ward to send an even more boisterous bout of laughter from deep within his belly. Laguna brought his index finger to his lips: "Shhh… can't you see she's working?"_

_"Don't go back on your word," Kiros whispered, inconspicuously sliding Laguna off the booth, "C'mon, go wave to her."_

_"Give me a break…" Laguna sighed, brushing a piece of dark hair from his face to behind his ear. "This is it, I guess," He whispered to himself, taking a few hesitant steps in Julia's direction, "Stay calm… Stay calm…" But the closer he got to her, the more his motivation to meet her surged, and the more his motivation surged, the more his heart began to race. He found himself on the steps to the stage, five feet away from her. "Ah… To be this close to Julia…"_

_He admitted he felt an overwhelming and perhaps unreasonable amount of passion for a stranger. Although… she was a beautiful stranger. A beautiful stranger who he'll occasionally lock eyes with… A beautiful stranger he'll occasionally manage to flash a cool and calm smile at… A beautiful stranger he's always admired from afar, and often fantasized about their romantic getaway and future and lofty marriage. A beautiful stranger who he hoped might feel the same… Laguna took another step forward in confidence, placing himself perpendicular to the piano. Suddenly, Julia's harmonic flow of music broke, but only for a moment as she caught glimpse of his approach, and Laguna relapsed back into reality, causing him to completely freeze, a deep red heat rising from the butterflies in his stomach and settling in a flush upon his cheeks. He ducked his head and whispered to himself: "Idiot, you're distracting her… You can't bother her; what're ya thinking!? I need to get away from her before I mess her up even more and she thinks I'm some weirdo creep. Quick! Gotta save my rep!" Laguna allowed one knee to buckle and dragged himself away from the stage and back to his table. "Uh-oh, my leg's cramping up!" He groaned loud enough to ensure that Julia and her onlookers heard, "Argh…!"_

_This happened a lot – the talking to himself, especially when he was nervous. It was a bad habit that he refused to acknowledge, similar to his habit of choosing wine— or 'juice' as they called it— over beer in the company of friends._

_"So, that was your plan, huh? Woo her with spastic leg cramps?" Kiros spat in jest, indulging himself with a gulp from his drink. Ward shook his head disapprovingly and set the empty wine bottle he had just finished next to the flickering candle on the table._

_"What was that?" Ward asked, muffling a belch with his hand, "Well, you did make contact though, so MISSION SUCCESSFUL! I didn't think you'd actually do it! Our popularity rating's gone up a point."_

_"Yeah, but…" Kiros interjected, peering around the dining hall, "You pulled a pretty pitiful figure up there. I'd say you're about a negative three on the manliness scale."_

_"Say what you want," Laguna said, resting his chin against his palm. His frosty eyes clouded back onto Julia. "She sure is pretty…" His words were soft and rich with sincerity, "Sometimes, on nights like these, I'll listen to her music and feel as if each note—each key against her fingertips—is just for me. Fellas, our lives are devoid of beautiful things: as soldiers we exist to destroy; we relive the horrors of our past actions; all the killing… All the horrible sights we've seen… It's just nice sometimes to sit here and listen to her play. It's Julia who reminds me of the delicacy and beauty in life. Just watching her puts my demons to rest, and listening to her—listening to her keeps me, me." He paused, "Pretty silly, huh?"_

_Ward and Kiros had grown silent in Laguna's monologue of ardor. "Laguna, we're takin' off," Kiros said, rising in unison with Ward from the table._

_"W-wait! What's the rush!?"_

_"It's on us tonight. Relax and stay awhile, Captain. This may be the last time we can visit Deling City after we ship out; enjoy it one last time."_

_Before Laguna had a chance to coax them into staying with any amount of reasonable convincing he could muster, they were gone. Laguna dug his hands deep into his pockets and exhaled sharply. He didn't want to be alone right now; in fact, he loathed being alone and individualistic any time, but he especially didn't want to enjoy Julia's music alone. And he definitely didn't want to drink alone; that was even worse to him._

_A supple voice brushed against the back of his neck. "May I?" Words as temperate as newly spun silk, he turned to face them; it was… it was Julia. Her soft voice came from bright red lips in one balletic strand of dialect, toned just above a whisper. Her hair fell soft upon her delicate shoulder blades, diamond ear rings dangled from her little ears, stopping just short of her exposed and naked shoulders, and he, Laguna, couldn't help but appreciate her beauty—her fair skin, her petite frame, her subtle yet lovely scent of roses, piano polish, and honey—they were more alluring to him than any one of his best daydreams. The image of her beauty in front of him was almost too much for him to bear._

_It occurred to him he had been staring at her for what seemed like forever. But she was not offended, nor uncomfortable, and instead allowed her lips to curve upwards, both charmed and mesmerized under the scrutiny of his amicable and boundless blue-eyed gaze._

_She spoke again, more timid than before, "Am I interrupting anything?"_

_"N-n-n-not at all," He snapped more sharply than he intended, "Please," his voice calmed, "L-let's sit down."_

_"You ok now?" Julia asked._

_"Kind of…"_

_"How's your leg?"_

_"L-leg? Oh, this!? Y-yeah, it's fine. Happens all the time when I get nervous," He added, wiping the palms of his hands down his thighs._

_"You were nervous?"_

_"Oh, yeah. I'm still kinda…" He admitted._

_"You can relax," She assured, "You don't have to get nervous around me."_

_"Oh, right. Of course not—sorry."_

_"Say," Julia leaned forward in whisper: "Would you like to talk somewhere private? I have a room here…"_

_Laguna felt a surge of manhood rush through his spine. "I-in your room!?"_

_"Well, it's pretty hard to talk freely here. Everyone's listening in," She pointed out. It was true, a large crowd of other Galbadian soldiers huddled around their table in hopes of a chance to talk to the much admired Julia Heartilly. "If you'd like to," She said, "Please come by. I've been wanting to talk to you. You don't want to?"_

_"Of course I do!"_

_"Then I'll go ahead and wait for you. Ask for my room at the front desk, ok?" She smiled and rose from the table, passing by her onlookers under a blanket of admiration._

_She was gone._

_"Ya lucky dawg, you!" A soldier snarled, pulling Laguna from his seat and pushing him towards the staircase. The dining hall filled with the sounds of cheers and hoorahs from his fellow soldiers, including Kiros and Ward who had made their return, urging Laguna to follow her._

_"Go lay it to her!" One soldier shouted._

_"Show her what the Galbadia Army is all about!" Came another cry from behind._

_Laguna, led by the enthusiastic enticement of fifty drunk and concupiscent soldiers, found his hands against the cold marble of the reception desk._

_"Welcome! Checking in?"_

_"Whi-whi-which…" Laguna stuttered._

_"…Ah," The receptionist exclaimed, cutting him short, "Mr. Laguna Loire? I've been expecting you. Miss Julia's suite is Room 1001. That's ten floors up. The elevator is right this way."_

_The melody that played inside the elevator hardly sounded like music to Laguna, having just heard Julia on the piano. He leaned himself against the cold assurance of the mirrored interior, patching his ego with words of reassurance and caution._

_He found her room, and for a moment, standing outside her door with his hands pressed to its frame, he was filled with both an utter hesitation to leave and an overwhelming temptation to knock. He paused, taking in a breath of warm air. "Just the two of us… Get it together Laguna. I always screw up by talking about myself too much. It's always been like that around pretty women. But not tonight! I'm all ears for Julia!"_

_A voice came from beyond the door, "Laguna, is that you?" The door opened and the scent of roses rushed against his face. "Please, sit down," She invited._

_Laguna made his way to the foot of her bed and sat down, ruffling the pink sheets beneath him. Suddenly, it occurred to him that he may be giving off the wrong impression by moving directly to her bed—have to be a gentleman, after all—so he moved to the only chair available, which was across the room. Again, it occurred suddenly to him that he had moved fifteen yards away from her, and he might appear aloof to her affection, so he stood once more, approaching where she stood, between the whitewashed entrance and walk-in closet._

_She frowned, crossing her arms and peering up at him, "Going so soon? We haven't even talked yet."_

_"No, it's not that. It's just that I'm a big fan of yours," He confessed, "So I'm really kinda nervous, y'know?"_

_"So that's why you come to hear me play so often," She realized. A slight blush spread across her face. She dropped her hands down in front of her, clasping them, and took a step in his direction._

_"You… you saw me?" He asked._

_"You were always smiling while listening, right?"_

_Laguna took a quivered step backwards and swallowed audibly. It was clear to him now: she knows he's never missed one of her performances. He wondered if she considered him a sort of stalker, and he turned his back to her, attempting to hide his flustered cheeks._

_"You have beautiful eyes," She said, mirroring his behavior and turning away from him. She brought a hand up to the side of her face, the other crossed under the weight of her voluptuous breasts, "Though… they look a bit scared now," She paused, walking to him, placing a hand soft against his chest, positioning him between the decorative wall and her, "Don't worry, I'm not going to pluck'em and eat'em. I just want to talk, gazing into those eyes…"_

_"I must be dreaming…" Laguna whispered, deep beneath his breath._

_She took a step back, bringing her hand up to veil the sound of a tender laugh. "Tell me about yourself, Laguna. I've very interested," She admitted, sitting down bedside._

_"Well, I'm a soldier as you know. But I don't like fightin' too much. What's nice is you get to travel, y'know? Seeing new places n' stuff. And it's fun, 'cause Kiros and Ward are always with me. Those were the two guys I was sitting with—the slender guy and the big dude. Hey, we should all go out drinkin' sometime! And, uh.. what was I talkin' about again?" He paused. "Oh yeah! So I want to quit the military and become a journalist! So I can tell people 'bout all the things I've seen on my travels. So, like, the other day, one of my articles made the reader's column. Pretty cool, huh?"_

_"I'm happy for you," Julia replied._

_"Yikes… I'm talkin' too much again," He realized, shifting uncomfortably. "How about you? What are your plans-ya know, for the future?" He urged, attempting to recover her interest. He wasn't sure if he had lost it yet, but considered his inquiry as insurance._

_"I… I want to sing. Not just play the piano, but sing, too."_

_"Oh, I'd really love to hear it."_

_"But I can't," She replied, "I'm not good at writing lyrics…"_

_"Hmm… That must be tough."_

_"But," she started, "Thanks to you, I think I can come up with something."_

_"Thanks to me…?"_

_"Yes," She admitted, grabbing his hand in hers, "The many faces you've shown me… Times when you were hurt, worried… Or felt pain deep inside you… Your smile, your face, your eyes…" She closed the remaining distance between them, resting the side of her head against his chest. "You've shown me something," She let out a sigh so supple that it would seem all of her worries, all of her loneliness, could not exist when she was near him, "I think I can come up with a song… You and I, I think that we could be—"_

_**Knock, knock, knock.** A voice emanated from the other side of the door; it was Kiros: "Laguna! New orders! Meet by the Presidential Residence, on the double! Our ride leaves in two. It's time to eighty-six, man!"_

_And just like that—few words could have conveyed their feelings at that point. Laguna, having to abruptly leave her presence, and Julia, having to watch the man she's always admired far more than any other, walk out the door, never to come back. The door swung shut, after a brushing of their lips in a moment of hurried passion, and she stood there for a few minutes, alone. She felt so silly for feeling the need to cry, but she did feel for him, and so she cried, drawing near to her desk, etching at the top of her songbook on a page full of lyrics: Eyes On Me  
_

_**….. #$% #%$#% ##% $#% %#$ %...**_

_**….. #$% #%$#% ##% $#% %#$ %...**_

_**….. #$% #%$#% ##% $#% %#$ %...**_

**_"NEXT STOP. TIMBER… NEXT STOP: TIMBER… "_**

* * *

_Author's Corner:_

_**Koala3ers**__: I'm glad you're enjoying it! As long as I have fingers, the story shall continue!_

_**IaithCariad**__: That's a sound piece of advice, and I hope you're noticing that I'm using it! I reviewed a few of my first person novels and have been attempting to innovate a more thorough first person prospective from Squall. This chapter in particular was tricky, so I decided to mute Squall's thoughts altogether for these flashback scenes. Thanks again!_

_**tuvile**__: Ah, your review was as equally refreshing! It's the appreciation from my readers that truly fuels my writing. I've always wanted to "novelize" Final Fantasy VIII, and I'm ecstatic that I am finally channeling my passion by doing so. As for Rinoa, rest assured their romance will be steadily building. I felt like Squall acknowledged her existence in the ballroom during that particular cutscene, but probably didn't really think she'd play an important part in his life. So I figured I'd hold you guys off with anticipation. Thank you for the sincere review!_


	9. Chapter IX: Always a Bloody Owl (I)

**CHAPTER IX: Always a Bloody Owl (I)**

It was her emerald green eyes staring back at me when I finally awoke in the flesh. Selphie was there, poising herself over me like a fretful mother, her face a conglomeration of emotions that were both undistinguishable and unfamiliar to me. I stood up and the sensation of pins and needles ran down my body in one fleeting ripple, unsettling my bones and sickening my stomach. Zell was still here too, and he had that usual glaze of stupor on his face. Something held him deep in speculation, and I knew without a doubt he was wondering the cause of our rolling blackouts. But that look on his face— it made him appear as though whatever he was thinking about had long ago spoiled and was stewing in a broth of expired rationalizations. Do I really consider him dumb? Of course not; he's just Zell.

Eventually he spoke up, only to have us discover we all had the same 'vision:' the three soldiers in the acreage; the Galbadian Hotel; the passionate pianist; and the gallant soldier named Laguna who appeared "handsome," "strong," and ardent, according to Selphie. Actually, her description of him made me contemplate whether or not I had the same dream as her at all—_I dreamt he was a moron. _

We exited the train, promising not to speak about our phenomenon until we completed our mission. I reassured Selphie that I would relay the occurrence to Headmaster Cid upon our return if nothing else; she was adamant about it for whatever reason, tugging on the collar of my coat until I finally assented to its significance. Honestly though, I didn't think it was significant at all. It made the whole situation, our first mission as SeeD, too weird and unexplainable. If we let it cloud our priorities now, we'll appear unprofessional and déclassé as mercenaries of Balamb Garden.

What was it about this town that emanated repression? Nothing about Timber felt animate or alive, not even the people. The architecture of the nearby buildings were erect but dismal, their walls decaying with untended cracks and stale paint that had been chipped away from years of disregard. Everything radiated conformity and neglect: the tedium of disheveled citizens as they ambled by, their faces wilted and wrinkled by the weight of poverty and disease; the condition of the crossways on which they walked, burnished by the dribble of unclaimed bags of trash that made the streets slick with grease; and the unkempt man in front of us, his voice damaged and baritone under a slur of raspy jargon. "The forests of Timber sure have changed," He muttered, his attention ostensibly seized by the illustrations of a map he gripped with trembling and calloused hands.

"But the owls are still around," I replied.

He looked up at me, as if these words weren't intended for him. He nodded, folding the crinkled map and placing it in the crevice of his armpit. And then: "Follow me," he had demanded, pulling the brim of his hat down so that his eyes were thoroughly concealed.

We were led across a series of train tracks until finally arriving at a detached locomotive. Allegedly, it was their hideout. I wasn't sure how you could manage a big yellow diesel train for a 'hideout,' but apparently they did. Inside the cabin, the man explained his initial uneasiness when he had met us at the station—namely, the reason behind his trembling hands. He had a partner –named Watts—who was missing, presumed to have been captured and killed by those they were resisting: the Galbadian Republic. But that wasn't the case. He wasn't dead. He was just careless. A few minutes after we arrived, and just a few moments before we had finished our introductions, Watts had arrived, asserting that he had forgotten their latest location and had been lost for, as he put it, 'the whole damn day.' Mind you, their 'latest location' has remained unchanged for the past two months. I didn't care the reason; I just didn't want to waste time.

"As I was saying, I'm Squall, the squad leader. This is Selphie, and Zell," I repeated, quicker and less emphatic than before. They introduced themselves as well: Zone and Watts. I didn't pay much mind to Watts though; he was a kid, probably around his early teenage years and closer to thirteen than sixteen. He looked at me. I looked away. I couldn't help it. There was no way I was going to take a twelve year old who hadn't even gone through puberty seriously. Zone was much older though, mid thirties I'd say— scruffy beard and brawny forearms that peeked out from the frayed sleeves of his tattered shirt attested to his age.

Zone crossed his arms, removing his cap and placing it aside. "We're one of the many resistance factions within Timber seeking independence from Galbadia. Since their occupation here, Timber ain't even a shell of what it once was. Everything's gone'ta shit, including my health," He managed to choke his words out quickly, overcome by a coughing spell. He recovered, wiping his forearm across his mouth. "But our resistance, '_The Forest Owls_,' will be forever known in the pages a' Timber's independence! Now that you're here, and with the impeccable strategy we three've devised, Timber's at the forefront of a complete revolution!"

'_A complete revolution?' It's never that easy. _I found myself inadvertently allowing my thoughts to supersede his string of self-encouraging dialogue, so I digressed: "The three of you?"

'Yes," He answered, "Our princess is sleeping though."

"It's the princesses' nap time, sir," Watts chimed, flashing an unwarranted smile in my direction.

"Ugh, man…" Zone said, scratching his head and crossing his arms. "Hey Squall, sorry, but could you go get the princess? She's in the last room, up those stairs. She's been waiting a long time for SeeD and I think it would be appropriate for you to do the honors of waking her."

His face irritated me, or maybe it was his gumption at requesting something so wasteful from us. We were here to fight, to aid his group in a fight for independence from Galbadia; not run menial tasks.

"…Were we hired to run errands?" I asked, a slight growl creeping in the undertone of my voice. He didn't answer, but the shock of my question had scraped a look of awe across his face from one cauliflower ear to the other. "Well?" I asked again.

"A-Are ya angry!?" It was clear he didn't mean to offend us. But we were SeeD… Special forces. Not gophers.

"This is the last time for this kind of thing," I'd replied— I didn't like being anyone's errand boy. Making my way down the narrow corridor of the train, I thought about this mission—or rather, why Cid would send us to a group like this. They clearly couldn't even afford a decent hideout. SeeD didn't come cheap; Cid must have practically given the three of us to them. And for what? To give us a taste and warm us up for 'real' SeeD missions? I didn't want to think about it. It was too annoying to contemplate on.

All in all, I felt an even greater gush of disheartenment as I turned the corner, entering through the ruffle of a pink door curtain, confronted by a wide array of pink décor. It looked as if a bomb had gone off—a bomb full of pink paint and Victorian designs. Pink wooden chairs, pink drapes, pink rugs against pink carpet, and there lied before me, on top of pink sheets, a creature that appeared so delicate and so light that I could just whip her off the bed and onto the floor with one swift yank of the sheets. _I didn't have time for this._

Although I wouldn't have _ever_ done it, my impulse to wake her must have been pretty strong, because she sat up suddenly, but slowly, wiping her eyes of newly-waken tears. I didn't recognize her at first, and then it hit me, half as suddenly as it hit her.

"Hey… You're…!" She paused, her once sleepy face filled with utter excitement. "You know!" She exclaimed, "From the party! We danced together!" She climbed to the edge of her bed. I noticed a pair of white embroidered angel wings on that back of her blue rib-knit duster sweater that draped off the corner of the bed as she crawled forward. "So… does that mean… You're a SeeD!?"

I nodded. "I'm Squall, the squad leader. There are two others with me."

She started to talk, found she couldn't, and sprung from the gaudy pink recesses of her bed sheets. She ran into me, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck. I suppressed the urge to sigh, deep behind my lips.

"Take it easy."

"It's just that, I'm _so_ happy! I've been sending requests to Garden forever, but nothing changed…" She reached across her body, grasping at her own arm. "I'm so glad I spoke to Cid directly!"

I thought back to that night she had asked me to dance, and the way she walked off suddenly, without explanation. Someone other than me may have considered it rude; but, at the time, I think I considered it a blessing. It made answering Selphie's peeping questions much more bearable to ignore later on.

"So, you were looking for the Headmaster at the party?" I was beginning to understand her a little more. Up until she laughed, waving her hand in front of her, as if to swat off my assumption from her presence like you would a fly.

"You know Seifer?" She asked.

His name alone made me swell with inner malice. But for a moment, I think I might have felt a whimper of pity for him. And so I answered her, but with an unintentional tone of apathy: "…Yeah." She didn't catch it.

"Well, he's the one who introduced me Cid," She replied, "Cid is such a nice man. I really didn't think SeeD would come out to help a measly little group like us; but, after explaining our situation to him, Cid gave the go right away! And now, now that you guys are here, we'll be able to carry out all kinds of plans!"

I have this habit of drowning people out when they start talking about the future as if they know what's going to happen. Which is what she was doing: assuming SeeD would solve all her problems and deliver Timber to their independence just by our presence and aid to her little faction. It was a childish notion, and to put it bluntly, pretty immature.

"Let's go back to the others," I insisted.

She shuffled in place, peering first into her mirror before stretching her spandex shorts down away from her butt and fluffing her breasts. "Um," She paused, "Squall, is 'he' here?"

Who is she talking about? Cid? Seifer?

As if she had read my mind: "Seifer," She said.

"….. No, he's not a SeeD." _However, he is an asshole._ I kept that last bit to myself.

"Oh…" Her voice lost its spark, like the smoldering of dying embers after a sweep of rain washes over it. She shifted in place before stepping forward. "By the way, I'm Rinoa. Very pleased to meet you, Squall," Her tone lifted, "SeeD members dance quite well, don't they?" She teased, peering up at me like a puppy that's just finished chewing up your last pair of good shoes.

"Approach your target inconspicuously at a dance party... There may be missions requiring this sort of subterfuge. It's expected of SeeD to learn various skills. Whether or not to display your skill involves situational awareness and your mission's intentions." That was lie. Well, sort of. SeeD candidates are required to take several elective courses prior to candidacy. It was just that, ballroom dancing wasn't one of the electives I had chosen, or even remotely considered for that matter. Ballroom dancing was just… whatever.

"Oh…" She exclaimed, "So you didn't really want to dance with me? That's too bad. I guess I wasn't good enough looking for you…" Her voice drifted, as if wanting me to coax it back with words of sentiment and care. Fishing for compliments? Yeah… not biting.

She cocked her eyebrow and placed her hand against her hip. She knew she was pretty; she didn't need my reinforcement. After all, she had Seifer's attention. Everyone knows that a guy like him goes by looks. To girls, he was like a 'trophy boyfriend,' I guess. An "I'm-gorgeous-enough-for-Seifer" trophy.

As we made our way back to the others, Zone's voice came within range, and I wondered, just for a moment, if he had lost his voice from disease or just talking too much—probably the latter. Bits and pieces of the conversation bounced down the hallway towards Rinoa and me until they fell together in one strand of semi-intelligible dialogue.

"So, why do you call yourselves the ''Forest _Owls_'?" Zell asked. "Sounds pretty sissy to me."

"We're fighting an entire government and their military. We can't just up and fight 'em; they'd crush us and Timber would end up worse than it already is. So, we have learned to be patient observers, like the owl. We watch carefully from the crevices of safety: gathering intelligence; attacking in short spurts when the time is right; and laying low, forever aware of our surroundings, like the turn of the owl's neck, so that nothing can surprise us."

We, Rinoa and I, appeared in the rusted doorframe of the cabin. I was in front of her, but Zone seemed to stare right through me to Rinoa, with a gaze concentrated enough to burn a hole through my sternum.

"But Rinoa," He continued, "Rinoa is our chickadee: small, passionate, and beautiful, armed with a'lotta fight and one hell of an indomitable spirit!" His words caused an earnest, reluctant smile to spread across her lips, as she, shuffling down the couple steps in front of us, eagerly introduced herself to Zell and Selphie.

Strategy. Let's talk strategy. That's all I wanted. There was no need for formalities or introductions. After all, when we've done our jobs here as SeeDs, their names won't be matter, or their faces. They'll just be one more blurred memory of a job well done that'll eventually get erased under a myriad of future missions.

Zone pulled us into the next room, excited to divulge their faction's carefully strategized plan.

"It all started when we gotta hold of top-secret info from Galbadia," He paused, acknowledging the fact that Watts had obtained the information all on his own, despite his age. He continued, "There's a V.I.P. from Galbadia coming to Timber. And when I say V.I.P., I'm talking about Vinzer Deling: our archenemy, the scumbag president of Galbadia." I watched as Zone swelled with anger, his forearms rippled with veins like a roadmap of torpid rivers, careening up his neck and across his temple, framing his left eye. Rinoa intervened.

"President Deling is taking a private train from the Galbadian capital," She picked up, "Our plan is to—"

"…Blow it to smithereens with a rocket launcher!?" Selphie asked, dancing in place. They weren't sure how to answer her, so she continued: "Rebuild the tracks so that the train runs into a bottomless pit!? Place a cute puppy in their path so that they have to stop!? –And then, we grab the president and tickle-torture him until he surrenders his role as a dictator and lets Timber go?! Or how about—"

"Whoa little missy! Not quite!" Zone rebutted nervously at Selphie's erratic inquiry.

"So get to the point! Just tell us what to do!" Zell yelled, taking an aggressive stance from the corner of the room where, to my surprise, he had been listening quietly up until now.

"Plain and simple guys," Rinoa started, clapping her hands together, "We'll position ourselves next to the presidential cabin along one of the parallel tracks that runs from here, to here." She moved over to a table where two model trains and a blueprint of the train yard laid spread across the table. "We'll have about five minutes to switch the presidential cabin with our life-size replicate model. Don't worry how right now, we've got the technological side of things handled, we just need able bodies to make the switch…" Her voice drifted, unsure if we would be capable of train walking. We were.

She read our faces. "Ok, good," She continued, "Our ultimate goal is to seize the president in his car and attach it to our base, which is what you're standing in now. Like I said, we have a dummy car hooked behind us, so what that means, is that we'll have to switch our 'dummy cabin' with the presidential cabin. Since we can't uncouple the cars directly, we'll have to tamper with the control system that manages the coupling. To disable it, we have to enter a series of codes which Zone, our technician, has prepared ahead of time. I'll be coming with you guys, and I will be the one relaying the codes to Squall. Now, Squall," Her tone deepened in either an attempt to rejuvenate our attention or portray a sense of gravity. Maybe both. "You'll slide down on the side of the train using a cable and enter the codes into the system. You only have a few minutes to do this, so I hope you have quick and steady hands. After we've made the switch, that's it. As long as we handle the codes, Zone and Watts will control how we move along the tracks and where we'll station after we've connected the president's cabin to us," She concluded, setting the model trains aside. She cocked her eyebrow and a grin skipped across her face, "Pretty good, huh?"

Selphie took a step forward, reaching for the presidential cabin replica from the table, fumbling it in her hands, "All the train models you have look nice except for the president's car which looks kinda shabby. Why is that?"

"Yeah, Rinoa made that one; that's why. We bought everything else at the gift store." Watts answered.

"Oh…" Zell realized, shrugging, "I thought some kid made it. The paint job sucks, too." He was right. It looked as if Rinoa had painted it blindfolded.

"Oh, shut up! I made it look like that on purpose," She replied hastily, swiping the model train from Selphie's hands and placing it underneath a pile of magazines; a pile of magazines that, I might add, sported bare-breasted women in lacey underwear on the covers.

"The paint job represents my hatred towards Deling," she contended, crossing her arms.

"Hatred, eh?" Zell replied, "You must _really, really_, **_REALLY_** hate Deling."

"It's one of the ugliest things I've ever seen in my life! You must super-ooper-duper hate him," Selphie added.

"Are you guys finished!?" Rinoa asked, "Can we get on with it now?" Her cheeks flared up in red, clearly embarrassed in her god-awful art skills, "Talk to Watts when you're ready, I'll meet you on top."

Zone doubled over, his eyes bulging and covered in streaks of blood vessels, almost as if they were about to pop from their sockets. He knelt down, looking up to us, "Stomach ulcers: I always gett'em when I'm stressed," He added, his eyes swelling up with tears, "This mission, if you fail, you'll put months of hard work to waste. **AND** you'll let down our princess," He lurched forward, "And if ya do that, kid, I'mma have to kick all your asses!" He stood up, wiping blood from his mouth, "I expect nothing less from SeeD than perfection… So get goin', and make sure nothing happens to Rinoa. She's like a daughter to me. And I mean **NOTHING**, or the last Garden you'll ever see is the one I bury you in," He growled, turning to walk away. He stopped halfway out the door, his body bladed in an attempt to fit his broad shoulders through the narrow of the frame, peering over his shoulder, his voice stern with presage:

_"Oh, good luck, too. God's speed, soldiers."_

* * *

_Note from the Author:_

_College started for me, so the writing may down die a little, but I will update every ten days regardless of my circumstances (roughly every weekend, or at the very worst, every other weekend, until the story is complete). _


	10. Chapter IX-II: Always a Bloody Owl (II)

**CHAPTER IX-II: Always a Bloody Owl (II)**

'Combat stress'—is that what this was? No, the taste was much too sweet. Ambition. Focus. Drive. Courage. Each of these, one atop the other: building; complimenting; consolidating one another, reinforcing my efforts with each step. I never reveled in the drone of my emotions, aside from those I experienced in battle, which I routinely relish for. The wind gratingly against my skin, and the bitter taste of the smog it carried, drifted Rinoa's shouts from far ahead aptly to my attention.

Grey rivers. Dark skies. Dead trees. Tan grass. They rolled by effortlessly. A reminder to Rinoa, no doubt, of the potent animosity she held against Galbadia along with her overall contempt for the President: Vinzer Deling. Her acrid disdain led her courageously in front of us, fearless in each leap from train cabin to train cabin, paying little mind to the dangers that existed all around us. Dangers that hung in the distance, hungrily, waiting for one wrong step—one misjudged leap—to carry us swiftly into the jaws of death.

I admired her courage. She wasn't a SeeD. She was a second-rate, self-employed guerrilla, fueled by nothing but her desire for justice and her love for Timber. So, then, maybe it wasn't her courage I admired so much as something else I couldn't put my finger on, something unrecognizable to me at the time.

This mission was… strange. Too easy. The uncoupling, the access codes, the little amount of security that guarded the presidential cabin—all… strange. Rinoa appeared entirely ecstatic in the success of our endeavor, and therefore, appeared entirely untrained as well, eager to confront the President has she jumped down, disappearing into the hostage cab. Perhaps it was unintentionally engrained into the rest of us, this feeling, for the three of us stared at each other in silence. Words weren't necessary—the turning of our stomachs connected us more than any amount of dialogue ever could have. This was too easy. _Something wasn't right. _Zell appeared grim, his face bitter with worry. And Selphie, her face relayed more uneasiness to Zell and I than we've ever experienced. Her face appeared so concerned, but also surprisingly stern. It was her seriousness, a trait we rarely have the opportunity to witness, that turned the blood within our veins to ice water. Selphie followed after Rinoa first, hurriedly.

I halfway expected it: what I saw next. Fifty percent of Rinoa had already given up. Her feet dangled lifelessly beneath her suspended body. Her skin: pale. Her face: a deep dark red. Her hands struggled against her adversary's clutch that wrapped around her neck with inhuman strength that lifted her from the floor. Her opponent? A body double; a look-alike President Deling. Galbadia's deceptive information leak to Timber had worked, along with their decoy, and with an added bonus, for there was the rebel leader of the _Forest Owls _about to die a meaningless death.

How I beat Selphie and Zell to save her remains a mystery to me. But I did. Rinoa dropped to the ground, grasping hysterically at her neck for breath, and I stood guardedly over her, my gunblade plunged hands-deep into the faux President. A pink, rancid ooze slid down my blade, covering my hands and crawling to my elbows. A sudden gush of sludge spilled from his bowels, drenching Rinoa with a discharge of pungent grime. Thrusting my blade from his abdomen and propelling him away, I knelt down beside her, wiping her sodden black hair away from her face, examining her, running my fingers over the fragile and tumid bruises that wrapped around her neck in thick shades of blue and aubergine.

The sight of her reminded me of that feeling you get after running through a downpour of icy rain—hair drenched, body shivering, seeking warmth wherever you may find it. She reached up and retreated her soft hands into the sleeves of my coat. Her touch was unexpectedly cold against my forearms. Her salubrious color had returned to the rest of her body, but now, her face was startlingly pale, and her tiny lips, curiously pink. She sat there, eyes cast down and glazed over, shivering ever so lightly, a gentle, low hum in her voice that inconspicuously seeped into the air, swaying her body.

"Guys, she's in shock."

I picked her up, one hand under her knees and the other around her back, supporting her head against my shoulder. She felt so light, but her eyes looked completely empty, devoid of the spirited girl who wanted nothing more than to fight for her cause. She needed rest.

**V**

"I don't know whether to hit ya, or thank ya. But," Zone paused, "Hey… thanks for savin' her."

"Squall totally saved her! It was no problem! He was _soOoOoO_ fast!" Selphie exclaimed.

"It was pretty badass. Leave it to him to be the hero!"

"You're real amazin', sir!"

**_"…I didn't need saved, you know. I'm a big girl, I could've handled myself_****."**

Rinoa appeared in the doorframe, her neck obscured in prominent streaks of cover-up in an attempt to mask her grisly bruises. The sloppiness of application closely resembled her botched paint-job of the train car model. No one dared to mention it, though.

Her words were somewhat surprising to the three of us, the SeeDs, but Zone appeared unsurprised in her sullen glare and contention. He crossed his arms, smirking. By this tell, I conjectured that Rinoa was afraid of losing her team's respect by appearing incapable. She must've hated the idea of appearing helpless. Therefore, somewhere in her callow misconception about combat, the idea that she would've died without my intervention must've deeply threatened her. It threatened her independence. It made her feel useless. It made her vulnerable. Vulnerable to the fear that maybe she isn't capable of resisting Galbadia after all. I guess that must scare her—being unable to help fight for her beliefs.

"Whatever." I replied.

Zone cleared his throat abruptly in an attempt to break the tension.

"So, I can't believe we fell for that decoy… Luckily though, we got some new intel. Intel that, I hope, can be trusted," He motioned Rinoa over. "Galbadia plans on making a public broadcast at the TV station. We really have no other options at this point than to do something with that," He grumbled.

"The TV station? But why would they come to Timber for that?" Rinoa asked, tilting her head and inching towards Zone. "They could've broadcasted just as easy from Galbadia."

Selphie turned to face me: "Do you think the Dollet communication tower has anything to do with this?"

Zone's face suddenly twisted in inquisitive anger: "What communication tower are you talking about? They have access to one!?"

I decided to explain: "Dollet has a communication tower that can transmit and receive radio waves. It had been abandoned for a long time, but the Galbadian Army got it up and running yesterday. The only TV station that can handle broadcasts over the air is in Timber."

"_Ok, so what's that even mean_?" Rinoa asked, motioning with her hands in my direction. Her tone sounded annoyed. I ignored it, and her.

"They're planning on using radio waves," Zone explained, "This way, they can transmit images to regions without cable."

"I know that! What I want to know is, what is the president going to broadcast!? Why even use radio waves? There must be something they want to say to the whole world," Rinoa stopped to speculate.

The entire room filled with silence. _What could they possibly want to say…?_

_**…**_

**_ … _**

**_ …_**

**"**_Everybody__!_** Love! **And **Peace!" **Selphie shouted.

**_…_**

**_ … _**

**_ …_**

"Uh," Zone started, stopping only to cough and clear the air before continuing, "If I remember correctly, radio waves haven't been used in seventeen years."

"It's been that long?" Rinoa asked, eyes wide, "Wouldn't it be wonderful if the first broadcast could be the declaration of Timber's independence!?"

Zone peered over to me with that kind of smirk that you'd only see on a giddy schoolgirl. "Ya know, that might be possible." …_Don't look at me like that._

Rinoa's face lit up, she gripped the collar of Zone's shirt and pulled him over to Watts. "Give us a minute guys," She said to Zell, Selphie, and I, where we stood awkwardly in the opposite side of the room as they knelt down in a tiny huddle on the grated floor of the cabin, whispering quiet words of some grand, split-second strategy.

Suddenly, and even more so unexpectedly, I felt a gentle tug on the back of my collar, and realized it was Selphie standing behind me, and heard her whisper in my ear: "Squall, I want to go home now… really bad." I turned to face her, and she looked up at me with the same eyes you would see on a homesick student; so innocent, so honest, yet so naïve. She continued: "What about our contact? Can we check it, please?"

I sighed and made my way over to Rinoa and her huddled crew on the floor.

"Good timing!" She cheered, standing up with an impulsive smile. It appeared as if her resentment towards me had passed over, at least temporarily. "We've come up with a plan!"

_Thirty seconds and they already have a plan they're willing to go through with?_

"Before we get into that," I countered, "Can we see your contract with our Garden?"

"Oh, sure."

At first she wasn't able to find it, but after asking Zone, she found it in between pages fifty-four and fifty-five of one of the dirty magazines lying across the A/C vent. She assured us that they were Zone's way of 'keeping up with the times.' At least that's what he claimed.

As I began to read the letter, I felt Selphie and Zell approach from behind, peering over my shoulder. The contract was more of a letter, written by hand, and signed. It read:

* * *

_To the Forest Owls,_

_ This SeeD deployment contract will last until Timber achieves independence. Please make good use of each SeeD member._

_ I wish you the best with your objective. Please understand that this contract is an exception, and no replacement of any SeeD members can be made._

_Balamb Garden Headmaster Cid Kramer_

* * *

It was short and sweet.

"Until Timber's independence!?" Zell rebutted.

"_That is sooooo vague_!" Selphie groaned, unwittingly stomping in place.

"Hey!' Rinoa interjected as she turned to face them with a stern look, hands abreast her hips, "You're paid professionals; no complaining!" She needled, crossing her arms with a slightly imperious smile, "Now, let's decide on teams! How about…" She paused, glancing between the three of us, "Ok! Squall and uh.. Zell! That's your name, right? Squall, Zell, and myself will head over to the TV station!"

Zone doubled over in his psychosomatic stomach ulcers before dismissing himself from the room.

Rinoa led the way, outside of their flamboyant yellow hideout, and towards our next destination, the TV station, said to be located behind a sketchy nightclub in the heart of Timber.

_"Let's go show Galbadia that they can't stop Timber from fighting for what's right! Let's go!"_


	11. Chapter X: Catalyst

**FINAL FANTASY VIII: THE NOVEL**

**CHAPTER X: Catalyst**

The club stood in the core of Timber like a tumor, unsightly and misplaced in its existence. The three of us waited impatiently in line to get in, betwixt the beginnings of the frigid temperatures of October, hands dug deep into my leather jacket pockets, thumbing a slip of paper and watching Rinoa, her back grudgingly turned away from me, and Zell, tapping his feet to the pulsing rhythm of the bass. Once inside, I am pertinently reminded of my distaste for dense crowds and parties. But unlike the inauguration ball at Balamb Garden, this environment I deemed far worse, for here, the vagrant miscreants have been lured keenly, like maggots drawn to rot, where in flippant surges of emotion they fought, necked, and drank to excess. As far as I could tell, even Zell felt uncomfortable here, his liveliness whitewashed under the psychotic drone that resonated in the air and eyes of those around us. And even though I held a suspicion that Rinoa had no interest in these kinds of places, nor these types of people, I could tell that the environment excited her; invigorated her; made her feel alive. It was in that moment I understood we were polar opposites. Her: an outgoing, extrinsic gentlewoman. And I: something else entirely.

Drinks of glowstick green, lunar yellow, and passion pink in tall, skinny glasses were offered to us, but resolutely rejected, as we sought for the back entrance. The music, the lights, and the hands that pumped the air in excited fists were soon but an undesired memory that I placed distantly behind me, as Zell, Rinoa, and I climbed the stairs to what we assumed was the TV station. It was.

I turned to Rinoa whose aura was eager with anticipation: "I'm sure the president's in the studio, but there are going to be too many guards to storm the place. But it's your call."

"So we shouldn't just rush in…? Hmm, we've got to come up with a new plan now!" She shrilled, pausing only momentarily in thought. She snapped her fingers and her eyes jolted up to mine as she continued: "If the president leaves when he's done, maybe the guards will too! That's when we do OUR broadcast. It might not be as influential," She shrugged, "But it's better than nothing, right?"

There was a moment of silence.

She continued, unsure: "We don't stand a chance if we take 'em head on, right…?"

Her excessive questions, lack of planning, and hesitation had begun to weigh me down. I sighed, turning to her, with an answer that I hoped could stop all of her questions, and maybe, if I'm lucky, her future ones as well: "Don't worry about us. We'll fight _your_ enemies based on _your_ decision. That's our duty." –_That should clear things up._

Zell nodded: "You tell us to go, we go," He paused, crossing his ankles and resting his weight against the handrail, "Even if it is a losing battle."

Rinoa's face seemed to drop, the edges of her lips losing their upward curve: "_How sad…_" She started, "Act on my decision? _That's your duty?_" She let out a scoff, "Oh, what an easy life it must be, just to follow orders…"

It was offensively evident she knew absolutely nothing about SeeD. She was beginning to irritate me: "_Call if what you want_. All we're here for is for _you_ to achieve _your_goals using _our _help. I find it hard to believe that _you_ can do it, though."

Her face flamed, her tiny hands turned into tight little fists that dropped to her sides as she leaned forward, peering up like an angry child ready to fight:

"_W-what did you say!?_ If you have something to say, just say it!"

I took a step back. "Forget it." _She'll probably figure it out sooner than later._

"You started it! The least you can do it finish it. Come on, what's on your mind?"

"Seriously, forget it," I turned away from her, hoping to diffuse the conversation.

"Tell me! This is an order—an order from your client!"

**…**

_—You really want to hear it? Fine.**—**_

**_…_**

"How _serious_ are you? _Really_? The three of you plop down on the floor to discuss strategy? On top of that, you can't even make a decision without our input, right?"

I had gotten so close to her that I was forced to tuck my chin just to lock eyes with her. She was staring up at me with dark oak brown eyes that had widened in bitter curiosity, her body quivering in either intimidation or anger. I could feel the heat of her nettled breath, but I didn't care. So I continued.

"How do you think _we_ feel, _working for such an organization_?"

Another moment of tense silence in which she refused to break eye contact with me.

"_You're being too harsh, man," _Zell had whispered behind me.

And I suppose I was. She was our client—someone we were supposed to remain 'professional' with and not bog down with our opinions of how they _should_ be. We do as we're ordered by them, and we have no place to pass judgment.

I took a step back, my blood losing its boil: "…Sorry," I apologized, releasing a drawn-out and distended sigh, "Guess I got a little carried away." I don't mind admitting mistakes.

Rinoa choked back angry tears which I had hardly noticed until now. She shamefully wiped the moisture away from her eyes: "You know, maybe this was all a big mistake. I thought everything would work out fine once SeeD came to help us. But, I guess it's not that easy. You were all hired, it's not like you're one of _us_." I suppose her words and realizations were in sync, for she turned away from us as if her reasoning could stir her to tears once more: "Um, let's see…" She paused, catching her breath, "We'll cancel the plan, and we'll disperse for now."

I took a step in Rinoa's direction. Dispersing wasn't necessary, and I was going to encourage her to do otherwise. But she suddenly spun in my direction, her eyes ablaze once more with a heat intent to burn, her tongue sharp: "You probably think this is all a game to us. Well, it's not!"

I watched her speak, my face unimpressionable, as she, soaking in my indifference, took a hesitant step back, her face enraged with quiet anger, unconscious spite, and overwhelming passion. She fought a losing battle to obscure them though, and realizing her defeat, inadvertently brought her delicate hands up to partially cover their outpouring:

"It's not a game. We're serious…" She cooed, taking another step away from me. "…So serious_, it hurts_."

Rinoa finished these words, but barely, overcome by her sentiments, hastening down the stairs past Selphie who was ambling in her ascent, pausing only in surprise and awe of Rinoa rushing past her. Selphie's eyes explored my face for reasoning of Rinoa's retreat, but they held no explanation. No qualms.

A broadcasting TV, ten yards by ten yards and hung above the metal stairwell, began to flash white, red, and black as it intercepted a signal. The picture caught and on the screen was a podium with nearly fifteen microphone attachments where behind a corpulent broadcaster with bleach blonde hair began speaking in excessive gusto:

"_Ohhh~~! People of the world! Oh! This is incredible! Ladies and gentlemen, this is not a recording! This is an actual broadcast over the air— The first one in 17 years_!" The fat man stopped for a second, clearing his throat and dropping his head. "'scuse me, I seem to have lost my composure," He said, pinching the top of his tie and securing the knot. He tightened it in such a way that caused his fatty neck to spill over the edges of his collar. His skin was rich and reflective under the luminous broadcast lights. "We would like to present to you," He started again with a voice that hardly resembled his former, "A message from lifelong President of Galbadia, _Vinzer Deling_. Ladies and gentlemen: _President Deling_." He dignified, his forehead moist with sweat as he hurried off-screen.

It was in the way that President Deling walked. It was in the way his arms swung pompously back and forth. His pride was evident from the point of his nose to his perfectly filed fingertips. Everything about him appeared polished and pressed. His skin, like his clothes, had been smoothed (or injected) to appear wrinkle-free, his hair was lush (aside from a few strands of grey he retained for distinction), and his hands—his hands had been manicured and moisturized and pampered. They were hands of a non-working man; hands of a dictator; hands of someone who only needed a trigger finger and middle finger to power. His voice more closely resembled his age, approximately forty-five, as he began:

"Greetings. I am _Vinzer Deling_, lifelong president of Galbadia," He emphasized, his hands gripping the sides of the podium as if it would escape, "Today, I stand before you to make the following proposition: We, the people of this world, have the power to end all wars."

Selphie gripped my arm and tugged at it unapologetically: "_See! See! It's a peace proposal to the world. I knew it!_"

"However," The president continued, "There are some trifling problems standing between Galbadia and other nations, and they must be resolved. I plan to convene with other nation leaders immediately to resolve these differences. At this time, allow me to introduce the ambassador, who will serve as my representative for the conference, Sorceress Edea Kr—"

The president stopped suddenly and his eyes went wide. He blindly stumbled backwards, both frightened and stunned until one foot under the other he began losing his balance at the sight of the carnage that must have appeared beyond the camera frame. His arms pinwheeled wildly in a desperate struggle to catch hold of the curtains behind him until his grip finally met, inevitably bringing the entirety of the backdrop down with him.

Another figure rushed on frame, blood smeared across his clothes and skin. The figure's face, dripping foreign blood that was not his own, made him appear like a character from an action film, and even more so when he bent over to grip the throat of the president and raise him from the ground, drawing his weapon and pressing it so rigidly against Deling's neck that blood began pouring down his white shirt. It had dawned on me that maybe this mission wasn't going to last long after all. I tried to identity the undertaker who was putting this wild-goose chase of a mission in its grave. My eyes fought against the increasingly harsh pixelation of the broadcast.

_A resistance member from another faction? No. Wait…_ _that weapon… is that…? No… No!_

Selphie quivered, as if to voice our collective recognition in one fluid cry:

_"Seifer!?"_

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

**_It was that easy to start a war._**_Little did we know it at the time, but this event would ignite the catalyst for a tragedy that would last for what felt like forever... A development that could serve as the disingenuous hand to guide me unwittingly into an endless and adrift subsistence._

**_…Perhaps in the beginning, I was right after all._**


	12. Chapter XI: Trust & Betrayal

**CHAPTER XI: Trust & Betrayal**

It took us moments. No— seconds. It took us seconds to reach the top of the staircase. Seconds to bust through the door. Seconds for our eyes to focus on the grey jacketed figure looming over Vinzer Deling threateningly, blade pressed against his throat. Seifer stood prostrated over the whimpering president like an invective stepfather whose eyes had gone icy and whose clemency had been numbed from the convictions of several beatings past. Seifer's tone was stern and hoarse, his face contorted in a twist of anguish and demur as soldiers with shaking and nervous hands surrounded him. There was pool of blood beneath them—it was a surprise that President Deling had not fainted from blood loss. Deling's hands were brought up to Seifer's blade guardedly. From his fingertips to his elbows he was drenched in a discharge of blood that riveted down his body like a fetid river. The stench of blood and sweat hung in the air like foul smog.

Quistis was there too, yards away from Seifer. Her face appeared far tenser than theirs combined. She had moved precariously close, careful both to not unease Seifer and overwhelm Deling. At this point, Seifer had stood the two of them up, blade never leaving contact against the President's pulsing artery. Seifer stiffly brought his other arm around Deling to both lock him in and lean him back, unsettling Deling's core that could otherwise be used to break him free.

Seifer was acting petulantly again. It came as no surprise. Seifer was a man who would leap into action before strategizing, moving from space to space on a whim rather than a way. His puerility in action solemnly reminded me of an old memory (although I can barely consider it a memory because it appeared in my mind more as a blemished photo than a detailed reel). But Seifer's raw (or perhaps lack of) preparation took me back to my childhood. (_God… I barely remember that part of my life.)_ Perhaps that was fortunate. But Seifer's offhandedness ushered in a fragmented image of a kid I knew when I was only an orphan, whose face was now nothing more than a blur. Almost like a brother, this kid did nothing but tease and bully others into submission... I guess people like Seifer have always existed, and always will. They never grow up; they just get taller and larger; increasingly shrewd and decreasingly childlike. Quistis knew his mindset scrupulously, and had more sense than to argue or try to dissuade him from his impulsive decisions. Instead, she urged the soldiers to back off and 'stop provoking him.'

"What are you doing?" I enquired. A condescending tone had crept its way into my mouth and curtailed into my dialect. I tried to take it back. I couldn't.

His response came back in a steadfast assertion that when coupled with his face which appeared both sensibly uneasy and exhausted, sounded also woefully confused: "It's obvious, ain't it!? What are you plannin' to do with this guy?"

My own confusion started to fade away. _That's right, he knows Rinoa._ _So, is that why he's here? What kind of relationship does Seifer even have with her that he would disobey Garden statute and travel all the way here? On top of that, what would carouse him to make such a naïve and moronic move? Was it obligation? Love? Seifer, is he Rinoa's...?_

"I get it," Zell realized, crossing his ankles, "You're Rinoa's boyfri—,"

"**SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH, CHICKEN-WUSS**!" Seifer replied in haste and stood looking at Zell incredulously angry for a moment, then backed up only enough to further unbalance his victim against the rigidness of his blade. It was like waiting for the New Year, watching Seifer. Waiting for that final second where he pulls his blade cleanly from right to left until Deling was separated into unequal parts and a piece of him rolled across the floor and out of frame. We felt it intuitively; the four of us (Zell, Selphie, Quistis, and I) were waiting for that fateful moment. Silently. And then:

"YOU FRIGGIN' IDIOT!" Zell shouted, unnerving us.

(_Zell, please.) _"Be quiet," I warned.

"Instructor," Zell continued, moving forward in a blind fury until he was side by side with Quistis, "You're going to take this _STUPID IDIOT_ back to **_Garden_**, righ—!?"

"**SHUT UP! NO!" **It was as if I had no control of my arms and legs. My boot had planted squarely between Zell's feet. My palms crashed abruptly against his back, propelling him forward with such force that he stumbled towards a four by eight foot speaker and crashed into them with a thud and crack so loud that it temporarily muted my hearing. But my shove was too late. He did it. He blew our cover. They know who we are now. _They_ know that we're from Garden. The _President_ knows. _Galbadia_ knows. The _World_ knows.

President Vinzer Deling lurched his head forward in savage intrigue, causing Seifer's blade to embed fixedly into his neck, but neither of them cared. Yes; now the President's face had calmed substantially, lines in an upward curl at his lips, followed by the release of a slow and keenly facetious chuckle. His voice was bubbly. Not bubbly in a charismatic way, but bubbly in a mouth-full-of-blood-and-gurgled-dialect sort of way. It sounded _inhuman_. It was almost demonic.

"_I sEe… SO you'RE all frOm GarrrrdeN_," Deling cleared his throat and spat to the ground where a heated mix of blood and spit settled. "_If anything should happEN to mE, the entire GalBADia miLItary will unDOUBTedly __**CRUSH GARDEN**_… You can lET go oF meeE nOW." He assured, grabbing Seifer's blade and pulling it away from his neck.

Seifer removed his blade, but instead of lowering his arms as his victim walked away, he reached out for Deling's neck with two fish-hooked fingers, curling them into the President's open gash and yanking until he was back in close proximity. Seifer pushed the President behind him and spun around, stabbing the tip of his gunblade through millimeters of clothing and skin, puncturing the tender flesh of Deling's gut.

"_Do you think I give a__** DAMN**__ about who you are!? I don't care if you have the whole-damn world on your side, move that fat ass of yours away from me __**RIGHT NOW**_," He demanded ironically, taking eager and powerful steps in Deling's direction, forcing him to either back up into the next room or be vigorously filched of his viscera by several feet of unyielding steel. Seifer led Deling into the next room, much like a prison guard leads an intolerant inmate, until they had disappeared within the darkness of the next room. Silence followed... An unnerving silence. A silence that eventually led us into the next room where a balmy (yet strangely erotic) fragrance enveloped our senses. Then, we saw them.

It was the Sorceress: the universal symbol and embodiment of elegance who struck reverence upon her audience at every sight and sermon. The Sorceress was a beautiful and serene woman known not only in life but in legend. She appeared utterly resplendent in her long, skin-tight purple dress, but also entirely terrifying. Terrifying in that she wielded an awful power. A power, according to Legend, that had been passed down by God himself to her (and select others), capable of naturally using magic without the use of GF's (those symbiotic monsters we call 'Guardian Forces' we sometimes use in battle). The title of Sorceress is a great respect. It was a rare title. Legend has it that after God (known colloquially as Hyne) created humanity, the people turned against Him (for unknown reasons) feeling betrayed and vowing to destroy Him, but they could never find Hyne's 'other half.' It has been said that He hid half of His body, His powerful side, into a handful of women He crafted by hand and personal design, which is why He can never be found nor destroyed.

But now, Seifer came into my view, waving his gunblade in the air as if to say farewell. His eyes washed against us ambitiously, both casually icy and diligently haughty. The Sorceress waved her hand. It was a small flick of her wrist— almost unnoticeable. But then a searing clap sliced the air with an accompanying burst of purple light. It was like a chemical combustion, or a firework from the night of the inauguration ball, numbing our thoughts and our minds; quenching our thirst for battle or intrigue; reducing us to our hands and knees and disquieting our hearts. We were nearly paralyzed, but I watched them leave, Seifer at the curtail of the beautiful and eerie woman, disappearing into a mirrored and morphing substance that evaporated after the fluttering remnants of Seifer's gray jacket melted through the makeshift door.

They were gone.

The spell the Sorceress cast wore off, and the three of us stood up, dismayed and dumbfounded. _Where had Seifer gone? Where had the President gone? Why did the Sorceress take Seifer? Is he safe? If he attacked the President and the Sorceress is working with him, is Seifer going to be… executed? _They were questions we were all thinking, but none had the gull to ask, at least not now, not even Zell. We left the studio and met Quistis at the bottom of the stairs next to Rinoa who had come back after seeing the broadcast cut out. I watched Quistis as she pulled herself away from Rinoa, who wiped at her eyes as she saw our approach. She put on a brave face, turning to me and crossing her ankles, shrugging one shoulder.

"We have to stay away from Timber for a while. My base was completely destroyed," She paused, swallowing shallowly before continuing, "I think Zone and Watts are OK, they're pretty good at escaping," She paused momentarily, crossing her arms uncomfortably," Is… Is there a safe place you can take me?"

I brought my hand up to my head, burying my gaze into my palm like a bird might bury its head in sand. She knew it wasn't that easy. SeeD didn't just have bases or safety-houses we could take her to. There was Balamb Garden (and ally Gardens) and maybe a few allies in random and far-off places, but none in Timber. So she issued a bout of self-insurance:

"This is an order," She said, wiping away her uncertainty, "An order from your client, remember?" It was evident she was uncomfortable having to ask for somewhere to live—to be safe—but it was also evident that she didn't have much of a choice. I understood that, so I sympathized.

"There's a place I know that we can go for now," She assured me, not waiting for my response and turning in place to lead the way. She made it a few yards and peered over her shoulder with a resolute and questioning stare, "Come on, Squall. What are you waiting for?" She asked, not waiting for an answer, turning to open the rusted door from its rigid frame, leading us into the now empty club.

The TV that stood over half-filled liquor bottles was on behind the bar, turned to the news. The bartender stood beyond the counter with his back to us, fixated on the television and apathetically rubbing a whiskey glass dry. A headline rolled across the screen:

**ATTENTION. THIS IS A PUBLIC BROADCAST, ****COURTESY OF**

**PRESIDENT VINZER DELING OF GALBADIA:**

_PRESIDENT ATTACKED BY TERRORISTS. _

_RETURN TO YOUR HOMES  
IMMEDIATELY._

**_TIMBER UNDER  
MARTIAL LAW._**

_RETURN TO YOUR HOMES  
IMMEDIATELY._


	13. Chapter XII: Escape to Galbadia Garden

**CHAPTER XII: Escape to Galbadia Garden**

The entire town was hushed. The city streets that were once lurid with sickly residents were utterly amiss of their presence, and now, all that crowded the slums and streets of downtown Timber were the greasy bags of trash that were as black as the impending night. October was beginning to fall into view, and outside the rugged townhouses we passed, Jack-O-Lanterns rested on porches like phantoms who watched keenly as we moved towards Rinoa's hideout. Dusk hung in the horizon with a sky as orange as the pumpkin decorations, and a silver lining of stars had begun to appear above, hanging in the twilight with a dim sparkle that appeared brighter than almost all of the streetlights we had passed. Finally, we arrived at the hideout, which stood in shambles (not out of sorts for Timber). Mixes of dirt and dead grass had been strewn from the earth in scattered chunks in the front yard. The scent of dry and sterile dirt crept from the ground as we moved across it. The concrete porch had been heavily splintered of its corners with sporadic cracks and lines that careened from one side to the other. Rinoa led the way inside the 'house' and with a creak of the door, we moved inside where we were promptly escorted by other faction members to a ladder that led up to an attic door. I had entered last, latching the door behind me. I opened the vent that connected with the downstairs kitchen. I looked up, seeing Zell, Quistis, Rinoa, and Selphie (who particularly appeared disconnected from the rest of us, lost within her thoughts).

"I still don't get it…" Selphie finally said, her eyes cast out the window beside her, as if searching for an answer among the empty alleyway outside, "What did Seifer come _here_ for?"

It was a question all of us were wondering, but no one wanted to be the first to ask. We had our inclinations and assumptions, but they didn't exactly match up with the identity we all held for Seifer. Sure, he could be a jerk, but could he also be someone to risk his life for a person he only somewhat knew? It got me thinking. _Thinking about how stupid it was of him…_ I understand that humans operate on a set of basal emotions. People try to depict them as something complex and beautiful, but they're just masking the fact that the decisions they make are a byproduct of the emotions they feel. Emotional decisions aren't decisions at all; they're instincts. It's nothing Godly, although people sometimes like to think humans as divine. Anger, love, lust, jealousy, fear, grief, disgust and trust. We are no different than many other mammals that once existed on this planet. The only difference between us and them is that we had the intellect to create a strategy and build technology to stay alive once the monsters emerged. People don't choose their decisions solely on intellect, and that's the problem. Most people muddle their decisions with more emotion than sense and thus we have arrived at Seifer's predicament: Fighting for Rinoa (_Love? Lust?)_ and threatening to kill the president of Galbadia.

Rinoa crouched down beside a pile of dusty tan sheets that had been clumped together on the floor. She hugged her knees and dropped her head, rubbing at her shins. "It was probably my fault…" She said, lying the side of her head against her knees, "I told him all about our problem here. He was only trying to help… I feel _so_ bad… Please don't think badly of him."

Silence and tension filled the attic. Quistis reached across and rubbed at her own arm. "I wonder what's going to become of Seifer?" She asked quietly beneath her breath, unsure if she even wanted to know the answer.

"He may already be dead," I blurted out without thinking (_No sense in obscuring what's obvious anyway)._ I felt a twinge of heartlessness that I didn't like within myself. I crossed my arms and turned my head to avert my gaze, refusing to make eye contact with any of them. I didn't want to see their expressions.

Rinoa broke the tension, peering up at me. "How can you be so casual? I feel… _sorry_ for him."

('_Feel sorry for him?' Seifer would hate to hear that. _"I don't need anyone's pity!_" That's what he would say._ _I can almost hear him now, swinging his gunblade to the air as if appearing prideful could retain his dignity.) _I remember once back in Initial Combat Training, he had lost grip of his gunblade and, unaware of its weight, allowed it to fall tip first through his boot, puncturing his foot. He had quickly tore the weapon from his wound, slicing at the air as if nothing had happened. Seifer had sweat all through the next four hours of training and when practice was finally over, he had inconspicuously limped away, disappearing before we had been formally dismissed and therefore not receiving credit for that day. I couldn't help but chuckle at my fleeting memory of him. He wasn't a '_bad'_ guy, just headstrong sometimes. …Sometimes a jerk, too.

Rinoa stood up, unbeknownst to my thoughts and appalled at my chuckling. "_What's so funny!?_ You're terrible!" I turned to face her and saw two emotions: disgust and horror.

Selphie tapped her boot against the ground, clasping her hands low. "So… why do you think Seifer is already dead?"

I answered: "The president of Galbadia and the Sorceress joined forces. Seifer attacked the president. It's no surprise to any of us that Seifer may have been executed because of it."

"Even so," Rinoa interjected, "I still _hope_ he's alive."

I sighed. _(Think what you want …Reality isn't so kind. Everything doesn't work out the way you want it to. That's why…)_

"Listen Rinoa, as long as you don't get your hopes up, you can take anything. You'll feel less pain that way. Whether Seifer is dead or alive won't matter if you don't expect him to be. But regardless, whatever _wish_ you have is none of my business."

She paused. I wasn't sure if she was soaking in what I had just said or was feverishly fighting to retain her anger. "…You're mean." She finally said, more calmly than I expected, walking away with her back to me and adding (this time with more ferocity): "MEANY!"

(_What's with her? Maybe I'm being too brash?)_

_ "…Sorry." _I added.

A voice suddenly called up into the attic from the vent downstairs (good timing), causing us all to jump: "The Galbadian soldiers are revamping their fleet for a full-on search of the city. They're heading towards the South side of Timber to regroup their forces. If ya'll plan on making it out of here alive, now's your chance to scoot!"

Quistis walked across the room towards me and stopped, leaning forward like a teacher might lean over a student's desk during a test, and spoke: "So Squall, what's the plan? You're the squad leader. What should we do?"

(_Is that a trick question?)_ "We have to get out of here."

Her back straightened and she nodded in agreement but raised her finger in front of her. "Getting out of here is only the first step."

"What do you mean?" (_You're being vague.)_

"Garden Code, Article VIII, Line VII."

I crossed my arms, I knew this. (8:7… _Right. In the event that returning to the assigned Garden is not possible, report to the nearest Garden.)_

_ "_Being that they know who we are now," I started, feeling Zell's heavy and regretful eyes on me as I spoke, "We can't return to Balamb. So, we need to head to the nearest Garden."

Her face brightened as if she had just graded a flawless essay. "Correct! From here, that would be Galbadia Garden. It may be dangerous, but Headmaster Cid will have most likely contacted the Headmaster there already, probably ten minutes ago when he saw Seifer on the broadcast. We should be safeguarded there, but even so we shouldn't dawdle."

Rinoa spun around. "_Oh_! I know how to get there," She began excitedly, "We can take the train from here and get off at a station called 'East Academy.' There's a forest right west of where we'll get off and it's a shortcut to Galbadia Garden. That way, we'll probably be able to avoid the majority of security they'll have set up on the main road!"

"I've been there several times," Quistis nodded in acknowledgment. She shrugged then smiled, but her eyes were drenched in worry as she muttered:

"We should be ok."

**V**

Night had fallen. My jacket was full of equipment we had been given at the safe-house before we left, namely five train tickets, three 'potions' and a 'phoenix-down.' I had to think back to my freshmen class (Medical Terminology) to remember what they did and the exact doses that had to be administered. I recapped to myself. _Potions can revive health and heal injuries much like magic can. However, phoenix-downs are much more than that. While potions can rejuvenate energy and heal wounds, a phoenix-down had the ability to revive someone who had died, as long as it is administered within five minutes of their passing. It will bind the soul to the body and keep their heart pumping. However, some health aid had to follow closely after administering a phoenix-down to actually keep them alive._ Phoenix-downs were something we had only read about in Garden, for the policies and dangers that came along with testing such an item limited us to only a very restricted access to them. We were near the train yard now, and suddenly a train sounded with a deep blow of a whistle that was attached just above the locomotive.

We boarded the train that rested on the north side of Timber, slipping past the one or two soldiers that 'guarded' the train (who sat poised against a table more concentrated on the meals they were eating than being on the lookout for 'terrorists'). Inside the cabin, I made sure everyone was accounted for (Zell, Quistis, Rinoa, myself, and…)

"OPEN, OPEN, OPEN!" Selphie shouted, bouncing in front of the locked door that led into the resting lounge like a small child locked behind a baby-gate.

I turned to the rest of the group, "I think we're going to—"

"_Please, Squall!"_

"…make it," I finished, turning to Selphie with an expression of miffed acknowledgement.

"_Open uUuUuUp!" _She cooed.

I typed in the pin printed on my ticket and pressed ENTER. (_Better let her have her way.)_ The door slid open and Selphie disappeared into the next room but not without gripping my arm as she passed with an excited _'Thanks!' _Her hands pressed the inner layer of my jacket against my skin. The fabric was surprisingly cold.

I looked over to Zell who was leaning against the wall of the train cabin, ankles crossed, peering out the window and paying no mind to anything else. He was obviously troubled. There were two occasions Zell could stand out. Maybe three. One occasion is when he gets into a fist fight; although, most of the attention is surrendered to his opponent who usually had to be rushed to the Infirmary. Secondly, he obviously made himself stand out when he talks. 'Talking' to Zell meant being loud and communicating your ideas through whatever means necessary, even if that meant bending over backwards (literally). But the third occasion—the occasion that makes him stand out more than anybody in any room—is when he is silent. Silence and Zell do not go together. They don't mix. They are polar opposites, like fire and water. So when Zell is unusually quiet, it begs and mandates my attention. But I wasn't going to say anything to him. It's better to let him figure it out on his own.

Thankfully, the train ride was going to be short (maybe another minute or two), so I positioned myself against the panel wall opposite of Zell to rest. It was another thirty seconds or so when I heard Selphie's voice slip into our cabin from the other room, almost unnoticeably. She was singing.

_"Train, train, take us away. Take us away, far away. To the future we will go. Where it leads? No one knows."_

Her melody continued on like that for awhile. No one said anything though; her voice was surprisingly relaxing and helped to bury the tension that resonated from Zell (upset from his outburst that threw Garden into the limelight) and Rinoa (presumably deeply worried for Zone and Watts). Selphie's voice could only be interrupted by the rupturing of the speaker above when the train signaled our stop. _WE HAVE ARRIVED AT EAST ACADEMY. PLEASE REMEMBER TO GRAB YOUR BELONGINGS AND HAVE A GREAT DAY._ You know, the standard, boring salutation that every train gives at every stop it as ever been at.

Departing from the train led us almost directly into the forest that would eventually connect us to the outside of Galbadia Garden. The lush vegetation was damp and ambrosial, as if a fleeting sheet of evening rain had passed over just moments ago. The smell was particularly similar to the scent of freshly cut grass. A dirt path slivered into the woods before us, intertwining between the trees and sliding beneath heavy overhangings of leaves that glistened in the moonlight. The brown dust that settled on the walkway appeared untouched and ancient, as if the dirt path had remained unused for decades. Rinoa led the way, followed by the rest of us, and lastly Zell who had fallen behind, dragging his feet. The forest was eerily dark; I could barely see any of them. I followed the shuffling of Rinoa's footsteps to stay on track.

"Guys," Zell began timidly from behind, "I'm worried about Garden." We stopped. Zell's voice sounded distant, like a child admitting to his mother that he had done some terrible wrongdoing and was reverent of the consequences. Anxiety had filled his eyes to the brim as he neared me, but he cast them aside, avoidant of any and all eye contact. "If anything happens to Garden, it's all my fault. I'm the one who said we were all from there…" Zell picked his up his head and locked eyes with me. I could see that they were not only saturated with anxiety, but regret. "Squall, do'ya think the president will retaliate on Garden?"

I turned to the side, positioning my torso away from him. I have no interest in being somebody's emotional cushion or psychologist. "Maybe," I said and shrugged.

"Figures…" Zell replied. He let out a defeated sigh. He moved forward, gripping at my elbows and rocked me back and forth as if he could shake words of comfort from me. "B-but," He started again, "We have a bunch of SeeDs at Garden! They wouldn't lose to the Galbadian army, would they?!"

I sighed. "Depends on how strong the army is…"

"I know, but…" (_Quit shaking me.)_

I saw Rinoa turn to face us out of the corner of my eye. Until now, she didn't even seem to be paying attention. She had her back turned, gazing up at the moon as if she had never seen it before. Peripherally, I watched her and her blue duster sweater approach me until she came into focus. Her mouth opened and words spilled out: "Oh,_ you're just a great leader_, aren't you?" She asked sardonically. She bent over, placing her knees on her hands and peered up at me. "Do you actually have fun acting so callous towards your comrades?"

(_Here we go again.)_

"Zell wants your support," She stated.

(_I knew it was gonna be something like that.)_

"ANY kind of encouragement will make him feel better," She continued.

_(Augh... That's just to ease your mind. Am I the only one who thinks that? No, I'm sure Seifer would agree. '_Support doesn't do anything but erase mistakes that need to be remembered so they can be prevented in the future.' _Yeah, I think I heard him say that.)_

But she still carried on: "Don't you ever worry about or even think about the well-being of your comrades!?"

(_I don't believe in relying on others.)_

"_Hello!?_ Are you even listening? Do you even understand!?"

(_Pfft, whatever. The moment you start relying on others is the moment that you—)_

A familiar ringing suddenly fell into my senses, drowning everything else out. Rinoa's lips were moving, but I couldn't hear her, and my head felt suddenly heavy and dizzy with fatigue. My vision narrowed. I knew that I was going to blackout again, just like I had on the train ride to Timber with visions of that Laguna guy. But before I could tell the others, before I could manage to voice my warning, before I could tell them how foolish it was to rely on others and why that was, I felt my legs give out and saw, through blurred and blackened vision, the ground rise to me. The last sensation I remember was the cold grit of the dirt beneath my cheek.

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	14. Chapter XIII: Splash!

**CHAPTER XIII: Splash!**

_ Laguna had stumbled upon an overhanging of a cliff. The edge was fenced, but not by much, a few forest sticks had been planted across the mossy ground and a rotting string of twine connected them. Its fragility made it less of a guardrail and more of a warning not to move beyond it. Laguna leaned over the twine, careful not to lose his balance, and was mesmerized by the sight of the canyon below which appeared beautiful, dangerous, and exciting (a combination that he found enchanting). He retracted his frosted blue eyes from the landscaping, ran a hand through his forest-dampened black hair, and removed a map from his back pocket, which he looked at ponderously amused. Footsteps approached from behind him. It was Ward and Kiros._

_ "Kiros, you sure this is the right place?" Ward asked, stopping far behind Laguna. Ward shifted his weight uncomfortably. His shoes were wet, heavy, and sinking into the soft and mushy ground beneath him. Ward hated forests, especially this one, whose air was humid and earth was swampy. His white t-shirt clung to his chest and served him no favors, so he took it off, revealing what already could be seen. He tucked his shirt away in the waistband of his pants. "I don't want to be patrolling the wrong place, like last time," He added._

_ Kiros moved across the ground with ease (weighing far less than Ward), and nodded. "I'm positive." Ward gave a grumbled sigh, hoping that they actually _were_ in the wrong place and could go somewhere less soggy. But that wasn't the case. When Kiros gives his assurance, it's only when he is one hundred percent confident in his answer. Ward accepted this as law. They were in the right place._

_ They turned to look at Laguna. _

_ Laguna was still staring at the map curiously. His map simply wasn't matching up with the landscape. Somewhere far beyond him, a wild bird beckoned and swooped low, disappearing into the mist of the canyon. Its vastness intrigued him. He thought to himself '_what a shame that something so mysteriously beautiful is unknown to so many_.' Thoughts of Julia crept into his head and he smiled a bit. He shook his head free of her bittersweet memory and spun around. "Ahh, sorry, guys… But this ain't the place..."_

_ But surely it was. Ward looked at him, doubtful. Kiros smiled. It wasn't foreign territory for them when Laguna was lost. Laguna and directions have always been at odds, and usually it was Kiros who kept the team on track. Kiros crossed his arms and nodded his head. "This is it. Let's go, commander."_

_ "Hmm…." Laguna never questioned Kiros twice either. Laguna brought his map up to his face again, scrutinizing the curvatures of the mountains, rivers, and wooded areas that were designated, comparing them to the scenery around him. He looked at the map. He looked at the cliff. He looked at the map. He looked at the canyon. This went on for another thirty seconds or so, and when Ward took a deep breath in, Laguna spun around, scratching at his head. He had that smile on him that was all too familiar to his team, and they knew what he was going to say next. "I brought the wrong map," He admitted, somewhat unsatisfied he made such a blunder but comforted in the fact that Kiros knew the way regardless. Laguna was just happy that he got to see the canyon in front of him, _a wondrous sight indeed_, he would sometimes say. But still, "Somehow," He said aloud, "I have a bad feeling about this." Laguna was never a man to follow his gut though. He believed that the heart was the wisest organ in his body, or anyone's body for that matter, even more so than the brain. So, when his gut told him that something bad was going to happen, he listened to his heart instead, which said that everything was going to be OK; that his friends were with him and that they could do anything together; and that he should just enjoy the sights of the forest and be happy. And he listened to it. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with getting lost sometimes!" Laguna cheered. "Who knows what beautiful things we might pass up if we always stay on track, eh?" He smiled that Laguna smile of his. "Let's get a move on and check things out."_

_ The forest and Laguna's team were strangers, but they had often heard stories about this place. It was a place where the fog never lifted and the ground never dried. It was their first dispatch in this area and their objective was clear enough. Ten hours before, they had sat against cold chairs in a dark room as their superior briefed them on the mission and smoked a pungent MALBORO-brand cigarette. The red hot glow and the peculiar rolling of smoke that curled languidly in the air were far more interesting to Laguna than some boring and formal presentation, but he had got the gist of it. Overall, it was another patrolling mission, which for some reason was the only type of mission that Laguna could get assigned to his team. They had to locate a refractory that was nestled somewhere in the middle of the forest. Kiros and Ward believed this to be a sort of wild-goose chase just to get rid of them, but Laguna thought it to be a grand adventure. _

_ After an hour or so of searching and directional questions to Kiros, they found the factory. They approached the walkway cautiously. Laguna felt his gut wrench again and placed a hand on his stomach, hoping to calm it down. "But seriously… This place sure is strange." He said, gripping the railing that was far more solid than the previous twined guard that rested on the cliff. He peered over it. There was metal slope that ducked under the walkway they were standing on. The slope carried rocks of various shapes and sizes downward until they disappeared into a hole that must've led into the factory. "What the heck is this big pile of rocks?" He asked, thinking aloud. "You think these are natural rocks used for carving tombstones?" A shiver moved over him and he suddenly tasted the acrid flavor of fear as it crept up his throat. He gulped, forcing it back into his gut. He took a step back and reclined against the metal guardrail. The machine gun attached at his belt clanged against the railing causing him to jump. He released a nervous laugh._

_ "Speakin' of strange," Ward started low, "Why have you been runnin' 'round so… _strange_?"_

_ It was true. Laguna didn't feel like himself. He felt like he was being watched. Even his footsteps didn't feel like his. He had this daunting feeling that there was someone else with them, someone foreign. Someone whose aura walked side-by-side with them but could not be seen. That nervous feeling crawled up his throat again and he swallowed, forcing it back down. "Strange..? What do you mean _strange_? … Just bein' cautious. That's the basic rule of th—…" His words drifted off as he watched Ward's eyes move past him and over his shoulder. Laguna spun around, seeing two soldiers is gaudy, metallic armor running his way. "Looks like we've got company. Those outfits," He started to say but broke down laughing and bent over. He removed his machinegun from his waist belt, tears rolling down his face. "That armor still gets me! They look so ridiculous," He cooed, wiping at his eyes. They were Esthar soldiers, who were globally ranked by GALBADIA TIMES MAGAZINE as being the most ill-trained and poorly dressed soldiers. And these two soldiers wouldn't have been a problem either, but now a fleet of twenty could be seen approaching from behind Ward. So, it may be a problem. No… it will be a problem. _

_ "Laguna..!" Ward exclaimed (which was out of character for him, for he rarely showed signs of fear, and it was fear that caused his voice to crack)._

_ Laguna laughed, firing a wave of bullets towards the two soldiers in front of him. "Oh, don't be such a weenie!" He hollered joyfully, indulging in his love for battle. He led Kiros and Ward over the bodies of the two soldiers he had just shot down and whose blood dripped down from the grated railings like a drippy faucet. _

_ The three of them sprinted across various walkways, up various stairs, and eventually found themselves at the mercy of a dead-end cliff. The three of them stopped inches away from the edge. Their joints ached, hot sweat of salt and oil rolled down their faces, and Ward gripped at his chest, his heart racing faster and pulsing harder than the two others combined. "We're… (HUFF, PUFF)…. Done (HUFF)… For (PUFF)…" He choked, laying himself out across the ground. He had gotten injured somehow in the scramble and blood poured from a gash in his throat. They had run for a good twenty minutes and although the Esthar soldiers were allegedly 'ill-trained,' they still pressed behind them no more than fifty yards away._

_ Laguna cast himself out across the ground next beside Ward, followed by Kiros. The three of them felt like they were going to faint, but they knew if they did that they surely would be killed by the Esthar soldiers. And none of them wanted to go out so embarrassingly. Laguna stood up, forcing his world back into focus and shaking the stars from his eyes. He knelt back down to Ward, patting his back. "Don't say that. It might come true! Didn't your grandmother ever tell you that? It's way uncool. It's unhip to say things like that…" He helped Ward to his feet. For an instant, Laguna thought that his legs might collapse under Ward's weight, but he straightened his back and aligned his hips, which helped support his friend's weight. He took a few quivering steps forward, leading his buddy to the edge of the cliff. "Just for that, you're gettin' the Cuchi-Cuchi treatment!" Laguna exclaimed as he attempted to tickle Ward. He was unresponsive. "Look," Laguna said, lightly slapping Ward's face who was losing focus and dazing out. He pointed down over the cliff's edge, "There's the ocean and look! There's a boat. We're going to escape back to Galbadia! We're saved!" Laguna cheered, slapping lightly at Ward's face again until he found him back in focus. Ward felt Laguna's hands suddenly shift to his back._

_ Ward was almost too dazed to realize what Laguna was about to do. And before he could realize it, he felt Laguna's palms press against his back, forcing him forward and over the edge. Ward did a half flip on the way down, falling back first, and all Ward noticed as he fell was the beautiful blue of the sky above him, the scattered rays of sun that played within the clouds, the blood that fell seconds after him that trickled from his throat, and the looming mist he plummeted through that made little rainbows above him. It felt like he was falling through clouds. Ward landed with a loud _**SPLASH**_, and Kiros soon too was escorted over the edge. _**SPLASH.**_ Laguna was the only one left to jump. He peered over the edge of the cliff, this time more nervous than before. He had a thing about heights. A bad thing. He didn't fear them, but he sure as hell didn't like them. As he looked over the edge, a sense of nausea and reminiscence fell over him. He suddenly remembered falling from an apple tree when he was six, splitting open his shin and hitting his head so hard against the ground that he blacked out. He didn't remember it at all, but apparently it had sent his mother running so frantically from the house (she saw the whole thing from the kitchen window) that all the neighbors thought her strange until they saw the bloody, tangled mess that was her son in her arms. Needless to say, he was forbidden from climbing anything ever again. '_I'm just rusty_,' He thought, laughing nervously. _

_"Man!" Laguna hollered down to them, "You guys sure have guts! Do you know how high this cliff is!?" _

_ The soldiers that were chasing them had finally caught up, and he felt a small twinge of fear and laughter jump up his throat as he saw them. He threw himself over the ledge, clinging to it, searching with his foot for a rivet that could safely and slowly lead him down the side of the mountain. He was not partial to leaps of faith, at least not physical ones. He slid his foot into a crevice and reached down with a hand to another rivet, attempting to descend upon it. The support suddenly broke free and his foot slipped, his hands grabbed wildly for anything they could find that wouldn't dislodge. They found nothing. "Oh… sh…! … No way… AHHHH!"_

**SPLASH!**

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	15. Chapter XIV: Frater Exaro Nex

**CHAPTER ****XIV: ****Frater Exaro Nex**

For the next fifteen minutes, we sat there in wonder. These strange visions were beginning to creep all of us out. I had awoken first with the cold ground against my face and the taste of dirt between my teeth. That familiar yet bizarre sensation of pins and needles slid up my spine like an electric shock, stopping at the base of my skull and imparting a small but considerable migraine behind. Meanwhile, Selphie had fallen into a patch of poison ivy and was scratching at her thighs relentlessly. Zell had gone out too. He took longer to wake up. Eventually he stirred, groaning as he stretched and rolled across the ground as if on fire, moving to his feet and releasing a long and exaggerated yawn into the night air. The moonlight peeked through the trees above us, dancing within the leaves and casting a patterned sliver of silver-light across Rinoa's face who sat pensively against a log. Her eyes softened with relief as she saw the three of us come back to consciousness. She stood up, dusting her rear of moss and loose shards of bark. She folded her arms and opened her mouth with words brimming on the tip of her tongue, but Selphie managed to break the silence first.

"Sir Laguna's in BIG TROUBLE! I sure hope he'll be ok!" Her voice was particularly squeaky, almost annoying. Her eyes landed on me first, bounced quickly to Zell, and finally stopped on Quistis who cocked her head in question.

"Doesn't seem like the first time for you all," She said, folding her arms. "What is this? Who's _'Laguna?_'"

There was a moment of silence between the five of us that was beyond description. Rinoa and Quistis clearly had no idea what had just happened. And the three of us that were actually experiencing it, well, we didn't have the vaguest idea of what it was either. If it were just me, I could tell the others it was only a crazy dream. But the problem was that it wasn't. The three of us were being somehow connected by an outside force, forcing us into one dream, vision, or whatever it is. But regardless, _'it'_ didn't seem important right now and I couldn't see how it ever could be anything but a distraction. So I figured it'd be best to just forget about it, for now.

I cleared my throat. "We'll just be wasting our time trying to figure it out," I finally answered. "Let's just keep going."

Selphie nodded, signed peace, and took off down the dirt path. Quistis followed and soon so did Zell. Rinoa hadn't moved from her spot, her arms still folded. I started to move down the path past her, but she sidestepped and stopped in front of me. Her head was dropped and I couldn't see her face at first, but the moonlight found her again as she lifted her eyes and locked gaze with me.

"I think I may have said too much…" She started to say. Her voice was barely toned above a whisper. She crossed her ankles and peered off to the side, almost as if she was debating whether or not to say what came next. "I'm sorry." She finally said. There was a gap of silence that followed. She cleared her throat and locked eyes with me again. "It's just when you went out and didn't wake up even after Quistis did _everything_ she could to try and wake you, I got scared. I don't want the last words I say to _anyone_ to be snide or sarcastic. That's all." She bit those last two words off sharply and reached up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.

I shrugged in response to her. _Forget about it. It's not a big deal anyway._

One side of her mouth curled upwards briefly as if she was disappointed but accepting of my reaction. She gave a small nod and turned to walk away after the others. A small part of me wondered if she was expecting something more from me, something more empathetic or poignant. But a larger part of me didn't really wonder so much _what_ she expected but as to _why_ she apologized in the first place. She's entitled to her opinion, after all. (And it's not that I really care what that opinion is anyway.)

The rest of the walk went in silence.

**II**

From here, Galbadia Garden could be seen in the distance. The vast expanse that Galbadia Garden occupied rivaled the acreage of Balamb Garden and the distance from sector to sector was about the same. The large edifice stood beyond a slender row of oak trees that were both devoid of moss and riveted with holes, lines, and scratches that defaced its bark. We approached the ending curve of the forest. From what could be seen in the night, the building stood large and proud, but unlike Balamb Garden, its outside color was that of a deep red, like blood. Windows appeared as little squares of yellow and orange as we approached the side of the Garden, and Zell made a passing comment about Galbadia's reputation, the low quality dormitories and the Garden's partying stats compared to other academies. Until he mentioned partying in particular, I hadn't noticed one of the windows was opened. The thumping of music and scattered mess of voices and yells that emanated from the window came in indistinguishable waves until becoming unavoidably apparent. I found myself ahead of the group, looking behind me and standing on the top steps of Galbadia Garden, watching Zell and the others climb warily.

There was a particular silence that existed within the group now, careening through each of us and brushing against our faces as if to seal our lips. Watching them, I noticed they looked eerily different than normal. It was as if the weight of the night and the stress of our situation were hanging like sinkers beneath their eyes, leaving dark rings of purple beneath their lids. I sighed, trying to shake my own uneasiness from my being. It didn't work.

We were escorted by Galbadia Garden staff to one of their many reception lounges while Quistis went to speak with the Headmaster here – Martine, I think his name was. I entered the lounge last and stood by the door, arms crossed, wishing I could be anywhere else. There was such a thick smog of inquietude in the room I felt as if it could smother anyone who walked in. You know that ringing you'll sometimes hear when a room is completely silent? That's all you could hear, coupled with the occasional sigh and deep draw of breath in. I looked around at their faces again. Zell sat on the very edge of one of the red leather couches, head ceremoniously bowed and fingers interlaced as if in pensive thought or anxious prayer. A five o'clock shadow of blonde peach fuzz was beginning to trace a faint line across his jaw. My eyes wondered to Selphie who had customarily found herself staring out of the full-body window that adorned the right side of the room. Outside, a line of pathway lights dimly lit the pavement. Little shadows flew across the concrete sporadically as moths slammed themselves against the hot glass of the light bulbs. Meanwhile, Rinoa stood opposite of me, across the room, maybe fifteen yards away. She was staring down at the floor, her arms hugging against her stomach reassuringly. She was looking at nothing in particular. A glaze had moved over her eyes and I watched her discreetly just to see if she would blink. When she didn't, I thought of Seifer. My gut wrenched and I let out a sigh, wishing that exhale would take the memory of Seifer, this whole event, and all this bad away with it.

The door slid open to the reception lounge and Quistis appeared in the doorway. Her face was stern and she walked to the center of the room as if to get as close to each of us as she could. She stood there, silently.

"How'd it go?" I asked after a few moments, and everyone's head turned and lifted to look at me, including Quistis'. I felt my skin begin to prickle under the scrutiny of their eyes. _What were they thinking?_ I locked eyes with Quistis and saw her debating something within her dark blue eyes. _What is it? What's wrong? What had the Headmaster said? Was it something bad? Was the Galbadian military coming to seize us right here and now? Were there soldiers with guns and tear gas outside the door waiting for us to try and escape? If she opened her mouth now, would she even tell us the truth if that was the case?_ Quistis dipped her head, swallowing before opening her mouth to speak.

"They understand our situation," She started to say and then stopped suddenly. She glanced at Zell. "And Balamb Garden is safe." Zell's eyes wrestled with this for a moment until, finally, his face flushed color and a giddy smile spread lightly across his face. His once pale skin had faded back to normal. He let out a sigh of relief and sunk into the couch.

Quistis continued: "The attack on the President in Timber was classified as an _independent_ action. There was even an official notice from the Galbadian government saying the Balamb Garden was not being held responsible."

Zell's face did not continue to lighten as you thought it would've, but instead, drooped again like it had minutes before. "So… Seifer's taking all the blame?" His words were weak and the question came out almost as a whimper.

Quistis' face turned to stone, avoidant of emotion, and it reminded me of her back when she trained SeeD as a combat instructor; but, suddenly, as if to challenge my memory of her, her face turned with small flare of temper and smite that caused Zell to fall back into his seat. "The trial is over and the sentence has been carried out." She said distantly. "Seifer is dead."

That familiar silence fell again heavier than before. I looked over at Rinoa. After several moments of her just staring at Quistis dumbfounded, her throat finally unknotted itself to let the six syllables she wanted to ask slip off her tongue: "….He was executed?" Rinoa cleared her throat, already knowing too well of the answer. She dipped her head and dropped to the ground as if she was dying and being eaten away from the inside. "Of course he was executed," She cooed, "He attacked the President." She stood up. "He sacrificed himself for the 'Forest Owls.'" She took a step forward and Quistis spoke up just as Rinoa was opening her mouth to say more.

"It was your group who got Seifer involved in all this. You're a resistance faction, right? You must have been prepared for the worst. I'm sure Seifer was prepared, too. So don't think of it as Seifer 'sacrificing himself' for you." She sat down on one of the couches and shook her head. "I'm sorry," She said, "I guess that wasn't much consolation."

Rinoa turned away from us. Her shoulders jittered up and down a bit and I wondered if she was really crying about this. I wouldn't blame her though if she was.

But she wasn't. Rinoa started to speak again – maybe in response to Quistis, maybe not. "I really liked him," She admitted, "He was always full of confidence, smart…" Her words trailed off for a moment but she found them again. "Just talking to him, I felt as if I could take on the world."

I had a hard time believing anyone could feel that way for someone like Seifer. No matter what angle I tried to see it from, I simply couldn't understand it. It surprised me even more than the phony president on the train or the event that transpired in Timber. I wanted to ask _why, _but I didn't have the fortitude to actually do it. It wasn't my business and, in the end, I really don't care at all anyway. (_Right_…?)

….

(Ugh... _Seifer_.)

Selphie turned to Rinoa hesitantly. "…Your boyfriend?" She asked with a soft voice.

Rinoa cleared her throat. "I don't really know," Her voice stuttered lightly, "I think I was in love. I wonder how he even felt."

"Do you still like him?" Selphie asked again, more confident in her curiosity than before.

(_Why do you even care? You're just going to make her mad.)_

Rinoa scoffed a little, not in spite but surprised at the question, and peered over at Selphie. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be talking about it. It was last summer. I was sixteen," She said and paused, "—a lot of fond memories."

The silence returned.

I shifted in place and tried to drown them out. Something was simmering in my stomach that was making me feel sick. Was it fear? _Sorrow?_ It was like a knife of realization being pressed against my thoughts.

"I didn't like the guy, but executed…?" Zell asked to no one in particular.

Selphie swung her arms down. "But you really hated Seifer! Didn't you, Zell?" She was overwhelmed with emotion now and her face portrayed this blatantly.

"I mean yeah!" His voice quivered until it settled into a monotonous tone of grief, "But he was from Garden. _He was one of us_." He clenched the fabric of his jean shorts in tight fists and a strange complexion moved across his face. "If I can, I wanna get revenge."

Quistis sighed. "I don't have any fond memories of him. I've seen some troubled children, but he was beyond troubled." She sighed again more emphatic than before. "Well, he wasn't really a bad guy though, either." She bowed her head and when her bangs fell forward over her face, she brushed them behind her ears. She took a deep breath as if she was about to say more, but didn't. It was as if what she was about to say had drowned in the mental anguish of whatever memories she still had of him.

_And I hated all of this talk._ I hated hearing it, I hated having to be a part of it, and I hated having to feel whatever it was that I was feeling. I didn't want to remember Seifer, not now, nor did I want to accept that someone as headstrong as him had died. I didn't want to accept the fact that _he_ could die that easily.

That sharp knife of realization cut at me again and I felt for the first time, a fear that I didn't much remember until now. It was a fear that had been quietly nestled away deep inside my being under years of disregard and negligence. But it had suddenly awoken. The thick blanket of defiance and refusal I had cast over it no longer could keep it away. That fear of becoming but a _meaningless memory._

I turned towards the door, removing myself from the group's grief as most as I could without leaving the room. I sighed again, my thoughts screaming loud as ever.

_(__I kind of liked Seifer… He wasn't a bad guy. He was one of us…)_

_._

_.._

_…_

**_(Seifer… you've become just a memory.)_**

A sickness crawled up from my stomach, wrenched my gut, tightened in my chest like a cold fist, and settled distastefully on my tongue.

I peered around the room again. Originally, I thought it was just the five of us in here, but I was mistaken. There was someone else in here now, too.

Seifer was here.

I felt cold standing there, between the door and Quistis, dismayed and perturbed, shaking and now –sweating. Seifer was here, but it wasn't a Seifer who could be seen or touched. It wasn't a Seifer who could piss you off, insult you, or fight you. It was an executed Seifer; a dead Seifer. It was a Seifer who had been shocked so badly his fingertips had jetted off in burnt nubs. A Seifer whose eyes had rolled so far back into his skull all you could see was white. It was a Seifer who sat pale, dead, and invisible, listening intently without a word to Rinoa's sorrow, Zell's promise of vengeance, Quistis' uncertainty, and my thoughts. I understood in that moment that the dead are more present in life than the living will ever be, haunting the ones they leave behind. A feverish chill rushed down my spine and pitted in my stomach where it boiled into an uncertain anger.

(_Will they… Will they talk about me this way if I die, too?)_

_ ('Squall was this and that.' Using past tense, saying whatever they want?)_

Would anyone even care if I died? Would I, too, be nothing more than a few minutes of fleeting conversation and obligatory sorrow?

.

..

_ (So… this is what death is all about…)_

_ ._

_ .. _

_ ..._

_ ..._

_ ..._

_ ..._

(Not for me…)

.

..

…

( I won't have it!)

Suddenly, I could see Seifer in front of me with his hands against my throat, gripping with dry and bony fingers. His face had been decayed from years of dirt. Deep lines ran across his forehead and crinkled around his sunken eyes. He jerked his head forward in a devilish grin, tightening his grasp around my throat until I could hardly breathe. Sand and dust fell from his face as his grin grew wide, causing the skin on his face to split in one bloodless gash like parchment paper. A worm squirmed from his left eye and his thin, dead lips curled back against rotting teeth and blackened gums. He removed one hand from my throat and placed it over my eyes. I saw myself there, next to him, in the ground, **dead**. _Rotting. Forgotten. Unforsaken. Meaningless. _The smell of death, rot, and decaying visceral crept from his gnarled grin and desiccated tongue.

I was able to shake my head free of the vision and I reached up to wipe my forehead. It felt icy and wet.

"Squall! _Are you ok_!?" I heard Selphie cry.

The knife of reality cut deep again, deeper than anything I've felt before.

"I won't have it!" I yelled, slicing my hand through the air (right where Seifer had been standing).

"A-Are you mad!?" She cried again, vividly confused. Everyone's eyes had fallen on me with a weight so heavy my gut twisted with real, physical pain.

"I'm not having anyone talk about me in the _past tense_!"

I exited out of the room with an anger so fresh and bitter that minutes later I hadn't even realized how far I had walked or where I was. After awhile, the fear within my gut had resided, but the image of Seifer was stained in my mind. That image of him in front of me felt more real than when I saw him in Timber. And so, I reached up to touch my neck.

I swear I thought I could still feel his dead hands about my throat.


End file.
